


Happiness is a Firefly

by RebelPaisley



Category: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Power Rangers Lightspeed Rescue, Power Rangers Lost Galaxy, Power Rangers Ninja Storm, Power Rangers Time Force, Power Rangers Wild Force
Genre: Baking, Betting on Relationships, Complete, Go-karts, Gossip, Interior Decorating, Laser Tag, M/M, Surprise Party, birthday distractions, grocery store negotiations, mini golf, sneeky pictures, the very best intentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:29:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelPaisley/pseuds/RebelPaisley
Summary: A surprise party is a relatively simple concept.  Trust Wes to mess it up before it even begins.  Luckily, it’s Dustin to the rescue, while Hunter and company are stuck on decoy duty.  The things they did for Eric, really.





	1. Telling the Time

**Author's Note:**

> Realized I had never posted my five-year anniversary over here on AO3, so here it is in all its glory!
> 
> This story takes place a couple months after the events of ‘Filled with Good Works’ which is...also not on this website, though you don’t need to read that story in order to follow along with this one.
> 
> Warnings – References to boy/boy relations, and general grumpiness.
> 
> This baby is raw and un-beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

“This is…” Wes eyed the splatter of egg slowly beginning to drip down the wall, the dust explosions of flour still lingering in the air, framing the mess in a way that was almost artistic.  “This is…”

He wanted to say _‘a catastrophe_ ’, but even that seemed a little too kind.

Across the kitchen, Dustin paused his remarkably calm sweeping and deigned Wes with a look of optimism.  “This is salvageable.”

Wes very much doubted that.

Blake, who wasn’t possessed with the chipper attitude that seemed mandatory for all yellow rangers (save for Taylor, who took to being the exception to the rule with ruthless determination), snorted gracelessly, voicing the thoughts Wes dared not say.

“This is the opposite of salvageable.” He punctuated this with an unimpressed look over the warzone that was Wes’ kitchen island, the carcasses of eggs generously scattered across the black marble, intermixed with the great sugar spill of eleven thirty, and the milk debacle of eleven thirty-eight. 

Dustin, equally unimpressed with Blake and his ‘woefully doubting ways’ (the Earth ninja had explained that perpetual negativity was a standard for the two Bradley brothers, to which Blake had merely shrugged in agreement), resumed his sweeping.  “It’s salvageable,” he insisted.

Were it not for the fact that Dustin still insisted that Trip’s pixie-stick addiction was ‘salvageable, Wes would have found that comforting.

Blake chose this point to ignore his teammate, because the Bradley’s had developed a coping mechanism of blocking out the things that only made their lives more difficult, and they had hung around Dustin long enough for the brunette to stop being offended by this action.  In that, he usually spoke louder.

The Ninja Storm team was kind of confusing, but Wes wasn’t really one to comment on team dynamics when he still couldn’t mention the name ‘Alex’ to his own team without sending them all into an awkward, stilted silence.

“Collins,” Blake began in a bored drawl, his way of showing that they were beyond humoring nonsense at this point, and Wes needed to put on his big-boy pants to deal with the issue.  “Just buy a cake.”

“I wanted to make one.” Wes tried to keep the whining tinge out of his voice, but if Blake’s perfectly raised eyebrow was any indication, that effort had failed.

It didn’t seem like an unreasonable desire.  Birthday parties required cake, and cakes made with effort and care easily conveyed more appreciation towards the intindee than going out and _buying_ one.  Yes, the red Time Force ranger had enough money to buy Eric ten gourmet birthday cakes easily, but how impressed would the Quantum ranger be if Wes just _bought_ his way out of a problem? 

Negatively impressed, that’s how much.  There would be such a void in the general area of ‘impressed’ that Wes would _owe_ Eric some awe of his own, and if he could avoid that mild look of disappointment quickly replaced by subdued appreciation, then Wes was willing to roll up his sleeves and get a little dirty.

That had been his baking mantra all morning.  That had been his light at the end of the tunnel, the aspiration to his big moment of triumph, his saving grace, his build up before… the inevitable fall into desperation, when Wes had somehow worked his way through all of his ingredients, stained his clothes in ways that weren’t even imaginable, and lost all hope for ever surviving beyond the bounds of his takeout menus.  He was a failure as a properly functioning adult.

About halfway through cake number _four_ (Wes would like to think he had learned from each iteration of cake attempts, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t), Wes had called in reinforcements, pulling a few of the highly culinary-skilled rangers away from their assigned surprise party tasks.

Blake had come unprompted, following as Dustin’s shadow, offering some vague explanation of being ‘moral support’ (though the pictures he kept sneaking with his phone of the cake destruction suggested otherwise).

Wes swore, if this moment somehow became part of another inspirational photo collage, he was taking away the scrapbooking toolkit he had given Dustin last Christmas.  He did not care if it invoked the wrath of Cam; there were some things that _didn’t_ need to be commemorated with fuzzy cat stickers and glitter. 

“And you will.”

The declaration pulled Wes from his sullen reminiscence, and there was Dustin, looking poetic and mighty with a broom clutched in one hand, the scattered remains of Wes’ failures doing nothing to dampen his aura of determination. 

Seeing that he had Wes’ attention again, the brunette waved a knowing finger at him.  “You _will_ bake a cake and it _will_ be glorious and- Dude, if you do not stop snickering, you _will_ _be leaving_.”

This last part was aimed at Blake, who had traded in his attempts at subtlety to record Dustin’s emphatic speech, giggling behind the safety of his phone.  Dustin scowled in retaliation and chucked a sponge at the navy ranger, the younger Bradley snatching it out of the air with very little effort.  Wes wasn’t bitter about his reflexes, _nope_ , but he couldn’t help but note that possession of similar skills may have allowed him to save cake number 3.

“Clean up or shut up,” Dustin chided, uncharacteristically stern.  It was a rare showing for Dustin to be strict (in a sincere, non-humorous way), but he tended to get like this when people encountered stumbling blocks on the path of a friendly gesture.  Dustin was fiercely overprotective of anyone who put forth effort for a friend, and combatted potential critiques with the same enthusiasm he used for motocross or hosting movie nights - as in, _all of it_.     

It was something about the brunette that Wes simultaneously loved and was saddened by, picturing the circumstances that had led to that disposition by someone he considered easily lovable.  Quirks like this generally generated from personal experience.  Wes knew that much from Eric, or hell, he knew that much from _Hunter_.

“Okay, okay,” Blake ascended to the demand with a smile, dissolving any lingering tension with the practiced ease that came from being Dustin’s friend for so long.  “I’ll stop heckling.  Quick question though,” he turned to Wes, his jovial air replaced for one of curiosity.  “Why didn’t you call Kai?”

“I did.” Wes sighed, gathering eggshells and consciously not thinking about _that_ encounter.  “He took one look at the kitchen and said that it was inefficient to waste time on a task that could only produce subpar results.  _He_ went to buy a cake.”

Blake let out a low whistle.  “Harsh, man.  True, but harsh.”

“What did we say about heckling?” Dustin pointed a threatening finger at the navy ranger without pausing his work, more dexterous with one arm than some rangers were ( _cough_ TRIP _cough_ ) with their whole bodies.  “And you,” he turned his ‘steely’ glare on Wes.  “Cut it with the negativity.  From this point out, all depression is forbidden.”

“I don’t think you can control that,” Blake muttered under his breath.  Dustin – calm, loving, positive Dustin – paused his work long enough to snatch an eggshell out of Wes’ hand and whip it at Blake’s head.

Wes was ninety five percent certain the maneuver was only successful because Blake hadn’t been expecting it, and the only thing better than the shorter ranger’s flabbergasted expression was the fact that Dustin had already started talking again, not giving his teammate the pleasure of viewing his response.

“ _Forbidden_ ,” Dustin repeated, his eyes squinting wildly.  “Now, call Leo.”

“What?” Blake dropped the wounded-perturbed act in favor of vocalizing the confusion he and Wes shared.  “Isn’t he on Eric-duty?”

“Tactful redistribution of assets is sometimes required in extreme circumstances,” Dustin replied dismissively, his tone so casual and off-the-cuff that it took a few moments for his words to actually sink in.

For Wes, at least.  Blake was already sputtering, “ _What?”_

“I _listen_ to Shane,” Dustin replied with a defensive sniff, turning away from the two of them to retrieve the dustpan.  Like the conversation was over.  Like that made _sense_.

“What?” Wes echoed. 

There was a dramatic sigh, Dustin rolling his head back with exaggerated weariness, as though baffled he had to explain _everything_ to the other two rangers.  “Leo’s needed more _elsewhere_ ,” he sighed, eying Wes meaningfully.  “Tell him to intercept Kai at the store and get more cake ingredients.  We’ll clean up in the meantime.”

At this point, Wes had decided the less he fully experienced this conversation, the better.  He made a tactful retreat, opting to go to his room to tackle two birds with one stone, getting cleaned up and calling Leo in a place of relative safety.    

Behind him, the playful banter carried on, Dustin masking his amusement with wide-eyed enthusiasm (he was a troll, they all knew it, but Hunter was the only person allowed to call him out on it) and Blake mixed halves of exasperation and masked enjoyment.

“You couldn’t have just said _that_?”

“I could,” the Dustin voice allowed.  “Wouldn’t have made as good a picture for the scrapbook though.”

“Picture-?”

After that, Wes made a more dedicated effort to getting out of earshot.  Turnabout was fair play after all, and it wouldn’t do for Blake to call for reinforcements.

He just hoped that whatever battled they’d have wouldn’t end with the kitchen more ruined than how he left it.

A fruitless hope, perhaps, but a persistent one regardless.

-:-:-:-:-

“I don’t understand why he’s here.”  Eric made this declaration with the same mildly-threatening disposition in which he had initially evaluated their little rag-tag roundup, and were it not for the fact that the man was framed with a garish backdrop of the family-friendly Putt-Putt Mini Golf, Hunter may have felt a bit intimidated.

But as it was, Eric _did_ have an ugly eyesore of a purple building jettisoning into the sky like a giant middle finger against all things considered tasteful and refined behind him, so yeah, Hunter wasn’t impressed.  Hunter wasn’t impressed at all.

Based on the quick look he shared with Rocky (Hunter wasn’t actually sure how the red Ninjetti ranger had known about this, since he sure as hell hadn’t invited him, but he had a feeling the reason rhymed with ‘ _smadam’_ ), Hunter deduced that he was not alone in this feeling.  It probably didn’t help the Quantum ranger’s ego much that Taylor was all but snickering from her position beside Carter, but Taylor’s charm resonated from her extraordinary ability to not-give-a-damn, so Hunter wasn’t going to criticize.

“To be fair,” Eric continued, taking in the yellow ranger’s disposition with a glare that was obligatory at best.  “I don’t understand why any of you are here, but I especially don’t understand why _he’s_ here.”

The ‘he’ in question shifted uneasily from his position behind Lucas’ shoulder.  “I don’t know why I’m here either,” he offered, projecting this fact like a tentative peace treaty, as though it would do something to lessen Eric’s scowling.

That was how you knew he was a newbie to Eric-handling.  Not the mild hints of tentativeness when engaging in conversation, but the unfounded hope that Eric would respond to a situation reasonably.

See example number one, Eric’s almighty glare intensified at this response, prompting Lucas-the-surprisingly-overprotective to shift a little bit more in front of his tagalong.

It probably didn’t help that the new guy looked pretty much exactly like Wes without _actually_ being Wes.  It was Wes with brown hair, essentially, but with none of the smiles and every single nerve dedicated to proper etiquette and mature decorum and stuff all rangers should probably be without any ranger actually being it.  At least, not full-time.  Not like this.

Apparently Lucas decided he needed to get in on this glaring-action, because his response to Eric’s ire was to grace the Quantum ranger with a mighty frown of his own.  “He’s here because he’s part of our team, and we’re friends.”

Okay, some immediate intervention was going to be needed here, because Eric’s shoulders were doing that rising tension thing that felt really similar to the all ‘ _don’t sneak out of a hospital with a punctured **lung** ’_ lecture, which was an emotional place that none of them really needed to revisit.  Hunter especially. 

He stepped in with a casual amble, trying to diffuse the situation with sarcasm before Carter or Adam could try some out some horrific life slogans like _‘you can never have too many friends’_ and Hunter would be forced to quit this day of distraction, promises to Wes be damned.

“Pretty sure friendship doesn’t work that way,” he drawled casually, hands shoved in his pockets.  “But whatever, the more the merrier.  Friendship for everyone.  Let’s play golf.”

“I can go-” Not-Wes began to offer and that - if the super-protective, super-invested attitude of Lucas was any indication - would only be met with more rage from the blue ranger, needed to be stopped.

“Friendship for all!” Hunter declared, cutting off the proposal and making his way towards Eric.  Not that glaring at everyone in parking lot wasn’t a super-fun time, but things would probably go by faster if plastic multi-colored balls were involved, with coordinating little clubs to hit them with.  Also, bumper boats.  _Boats_.  Hunter hadn’t done that in forever.

“Now,” Hunter muttered, grabbing one of Eric’s rather impressive biceps and attempting to guide the other man towards the building’s entrance.  “Stop scowling and start walking, we have family-friendly activities to engage in, lest your birthday not be properly celebrated.”

“I thought we weren’t going to use the B-word,” Rocky mock-whispered, his attempts at conspiring mitigated by the wide grin spread across his face. 

“I think at this point it would be more stupid than whimsically catty to ignore why we gathered a bunch of adults in one place to play mini golf,” Hunter replied, frowning as the bulk of muscle that was Eric refused to budge under his grip.  In response, and not because he was a total child, Hunter leaned against the Quantum Ranger, trying to push his firmly-grounded ass towards the front doors.  It was a difficult battle, since he had to keep his ranger strength in-check.  And because Eric was being a dick.

“I would think this would be a regular thing for you guys,” Taylor noted, her eyes narrowing in devilish concentration, smirk sharp on her features.  “Doesn’t Dustin drag you to this type of stuff all the time?”

“Why are you using his team as a reference point for normality?” Rocky asked before Hunter could prepare a properly scathing response.  “When would that ever seem like a good idea?”

“If you were doing ninja-stuff?” Lucas offered.  He had backed down from his anger-front at the opportunity to poke fun at Hunter and Hunter-related things, which was doing wonders to lighten the mood.

Normally, Hunter would put up the pretense of being offended for the sake of entertainment (he didn’t really have enough pride or ego for it to be a legitimate response), but Eric seriously wasn’t moving, which was going to be a rather sizeable hurdle in their planned ‘day of fun’.

In the meantime, Adam took up the mantle of providing a light distraction, keeping them all from uniting their frustrations to get Eric through the front door.  “You could always ask us.  The Ninjetti’s are ninjas too.”

“It’s in the _name_ ,” Rocky added with an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows. 

Not-Wes stirred from behind Lucas.  “I thought the name derived from-”

“No history lessons,” Hunter chided, only feeling the _tiniest_ bit guilty about cutting off Not-Wes’s first voluntary vocalization.  “This is a day of mindless, dopey fun.”

“For my birthday,” Eric drawled, folding his arms across his chest.  There was probably a hint of smug victory in there because Hunter had yet to actually move the other ranger _a single inch_ , but most of Eric’s energy seemed to be reserved for his chosen strategy of disbelieving his circumstances until he was back home.

Where he couldn’t really go, as said house was swarmed with rangers decorating the humble abode with red and black, fortifying it for a ranger party to end-or-maybe-kind-of-begin all ranger parties. 

It was the first birthday they had hit since the whole Doompot-and-results-of-Doompot conundrum had occurred (that didn’t coincide some kind of mega-event for a particular team – there had been other birthdays, but they’d been, you know, understandably busy), and they were trying to take advantage of their newly-instilled sense of communication in the most appropriate way.

“For your birthday,” Hunter agreed.  At some point, he had stopped trying to shove Eric and settled for leaning against the broader man.  Hey, ninjas needed breaks too.

“And uh…everyone’s here?”

This one, yeah, that one had actually been a question (as opposed to a stated challenge posed as a question, wrapped in no-I-didn’t-actually-want-an-answer-dumbass), and Hunter cursed his little crimson luck that he hadn’t been expecting it.  Or, he had, but he had hopes, you know.  Despite reality consistently slamming those hopes into the ground, he had hopes.

Behind them, Hunter listened to the crowd consciously avert their attention elsewhere, giving the illusion of privacy.  Didn’t really work, considering that they all had heightened senses, but there were worse things in life than spontaneous conversations about the weather.  Or cars.

Enough stalling, it was up to Hunter to do the hard, touchy-feely stuff he had really been hoping to avoid.

Stupid Wes and his stupid emergencies.  Hunter had lost like, two people to that.

“Leo’s still in-route,” Hunter lied conversationally.  Leo was going to be ‘in-route’ for a long time if Wes’ need for a Kai-handler persisted, but it _was_ technically true.  “And Dustin got called back on some family stuff.”

Which, _again_ , was not technically untrue, as Dustin loved Wes with the ferocity someone would reserve for an Uncle, or at the very least, a cool older cousin.

Hunter wasn’t sure which of the two instigated Eric’s disappointed frown more.  The Quantum ranger’s relationship with Leo was an unfathomable thing that seemed to cater between the extremes of complete aggravation and awkward sexual tension with little room in between (unless they were like, two minutes from passing out, then they were all sleepy and adorable and no one had the energy for emotional shields, so they had to own up to actually liking each other).  Ultimately, their interactions culminated into a solid friendship, probably one of Eric’s favorites (not that the Quantum ranger would ever admit this), so Leo’s loss, while pretended to not be much of one, would not be pleasant for Eric.

The Quantum ranger’s relationship with Dustin had played out the same way for exactly five seconds, and then Eric realized that his façade of pretending to not like Dustin was something the yellow ranger took literally.  The rush to alleviate the misconception had been fast and thorough, ending with Dustin’s eternal devotion forever, and Eric’s overprotective daddy-bear thing kicking into overdrive.  Dustin was probably the only person who had Eric wrapped around his finger who would never think of possibly abusing that power.  They did brunch without irony, and Eric (despite complains of the long drive) was at every single one of Dustin’s races, sometimes dragging Wes or Taylor or Leo with him in tow. 

If there wasn’t an emergency afterwards, sometimes Eric would treat them to burgers and shakes – the thick, homemade goopy kind – and Hunter may-or-may not love those situations as much as Dustin did, if not more. 

“It’s nothing bad,” Hunter assured, cutting off Eric’s concern for Dustin (like he said, mad papa-bear skills).  “But it’ll be a bit.”

Eric considered him with a steely gaze, not distrusting of Hunter’s assessment, but tentative in its own right.  It had taken Hunter a long time not to be offended by that, by Eric’s reluctance to believe in the judgements of others, but once Wes had given a breakdown of how the Time Force team had worked together, Hunter realized it made sense.  Eric had worked alone for a very long time; even now he was still adjusting to the idea that other people may have his best interests at heart.

Even Hunter still struggled with that concept, so he couldn’t begrudge Eric for it.  Seemed unreasonable, even for him.

“Okay,” Eric said, nodding.

The one subject they didn’t even _remotely_ address was the topic of Wes’ absence, since that had already been covered about a week ago.  Technically, Wes was ‘out of town’ on business, and had already sent Eric a commemorative candy-graham (Hunter and Dustin had already been there for that, having crashed Eric’s pad with a surprise birthday bruncheon, _‘fancy hats mandatory’_ ) and his best wishes.  Eric had been oh-so-subtly perturbed by the blond missing his birthday, but in typical Eric-fashion he had bottled up that frustration with the obnoxious insistence that it didn’t exist.  Nope.  No sir.  He didn’t miss Wes.  He didn’t care about his birthday, or Wes missing it, because deep down Eric was just as messed up as Hunter and Blake were.  Yep.

At least Hunter had enough awareness to admit it.

“So if that’s settled,” Hunter began conversationally, wrapping an arm around Eric’s broad shoulders.  “I believe we have go-karts to race, mini-golf to play, and bumper boats to…bump.”

“Don’t forget the batting cages!” Taylor cheered, jumping into their conversation with complete defiance to pretending not to be listening this whole time.  “There are baseballs to hit.”

“No baseballs,” Carter, the level-headed rock in this storm, chided.  “You remember what happened last time.”

“I think we can all agree that we would like not to remember what happened last time,” Adam noted, a shiver falling over the crowd as they strayed towards the not-so-safe memories.

“Wes paid for the repairs,” Lucas grumbled under his breath.

Hunter rolled his eyes.  “Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”

But seriously, whatever helped.  You couldn’t critique a good coping mechanism. 

-:-:-:-:-

During you career as a ranger, there were situations that required you utmost skill and determination.  Situations that mandated every ounce of focus you possessed, situations where a moment’s hesitation or distraction could mark not only yours, but your team’s, and humanity’s, ruin.  Situations that were, in retrospect, completely and utterly terrifying (okay, in the moment, they were _also_ completely and utterly terrifying, but usually adrenaline could block it out).  These were the situations that judged the merit of a person, and in turn, their value as a ranger.

Leo should not be facing a similar situation when it came from talking Kai down from buying a cake, but such was life.

It was a good thing that Wes called him in time.  The maneuvering Leo had to pull to get out of the way before Eric caught sight of him in the Putt-Putt parking lot was probably both ridiculous and impressive.  Leo still wasn’t entirely sure what he had actually _done_ , the moment of panic quickly overtaken by his ranger directive of following emergency orders, but he was pretty sure there had been some flipping involved.  Some guy across the street had clapped, but Leo had firmly decided that was in response to something _else_ majestic happening, but he digressed.

Kai.  _Cake_.  Gameface.

The things Leo did for these people.

Firmly ignoring Hunter’s _‘Hurry up, Eric’s soul is CRYING’_ text, phone heavy in his pocket, Leo put on his best Kai-charming face and held his hands up open and easy, displaying empty wrists and the obvious lack of hidden weapons on his person.  Not that Kai would suspect Leo of a calculated assault (or, suspect him _as much_ of a calculated assault, some habits never died), the brunette just usually found that when wanting to get/communicate something from/to Kai, it was best to alleviate all possible distractions as quickly as possible. 

Yes, it was unspeakably depressing that Kai’s ‘distractions’ were fundamentally based in the area of risk assessment, but Leo was a realist, he worked with what he had.  Maya was the empathetic one, let _her_ get distracted by the sorrows inspired man’s potential for cruelty.

 _Woah_ , that was a lot of pent up frustration coming out today, Leo really needed to focus.  It was birthday, happy-fun times, he could be pissed at the people who mistreated Kai later.  The anger would still be there.

“I realize you’re trying to help out here,” Leo began without preamble, choosing to skip over simple things like ‘ _hello’_ and ‘ _So Wes called_ ’ in favor of taking care of the immediate problem of Kai picking out a cake.  “But you’re going to have to trust me on this one, some things can’t be bought.”

Kai, one finger marking his place in the cake catalogue (they had fireman cakes – _sweet_.  Literally), did some very minute shifting in his expression which some would not consider as emoting that Leo equivocated to a raised eyebrow.   

“A cake can be bought,” Kai noted, there could have been a note of humor in his tone, but the main point here was that he was still looking at Leo, which meant he was interested.  If he thought Leo’s point was irrelevant, he would have already gone back to picking out a cake.

“The effort spent making the cake can’t.”  Leo smiled, ambling along the length of the bakery display case until he was a few feet from the object-of-his-affection-that-he-couldn’t-really-call-a-boyfriend-because-it-just-made-Kai-confused. 

Kai’s head tilted to the side, speculative.  “I believe technically, it can.”

“The appreciation of the effort, I mean.”  Despite the nit-picking, Leo was still smiling.  This was- this was one of the things he adored about Kai anyway.  He had assumed, in the beginning that Kai’s banter had been his attempts at friendliness, but eventually he discovered that wasn’t the most accurate description.  It was Kai reaching out for answers, trying to re-align the world into something manageable, and trusting Leo not to lie.

It was depressing and heartening at the same time, which seemed to be a common theme in Leo’s life.

Shaking the thought off, Leo continued, shedding light on an unknown subject once more.  “Sure, you can buy someone a cake, but if you _make_ someone a cake, put forth the effort and time to make it for them, well…some people consider that a greater gift.  Because cake is great and all, it is, but something tasty to eat can be gone in a day.  The memory of someone doing something for you, and the feelings that effort inspires?  That will last way longer.”

Leo crossed the last few feet between them, leaning against the glass display case and ignoring the very vibrant ‘ _DO NOT TOUCH’_ sign resting on top of the glass, because he was a freaking _rebel_.

Kai chuckled quietly.  “Not as much of one as you think.”

“How do you do that?” The exasperation was betrayed with a smile, Leo too happy at the prospect of Kai and Kai-fondness and _this_ to ever feel annoyed.

“With practice,” Kai replied blithely, owning up to the vagueness with a mischievous smile.

Yeah, people called Leo a troll, but if they ever got into Kai’s comfort zone they would see who the real trouble maker was.

“Then practice _this,_ friend.” Leo bopped Kai’s nose lightly, the childishness of it outweighed by the blue ranger’s momentary confusion.  Random, purposeless actions were still something Kai had to work around, but the fact that he allowed Leo to touch him at all – that he trusted him _enough_ for that…

Well, let’s just say it wasn’t something that Commander Myers could understand the gravity of, even if he had never had to work for it.

No, Leo was not bitter about that.  He was happy that Kai was getting/trusting more of their friends. 

It was good.

Well, he was in a _stupid_ mood today, wasn’t he?

“Why don’t we abandon the catalogue here and go pick out some new ingredients for Wes?”

Leo had seen the destruction wrought upon the Silver Guardian’s kitchen via Blake’s pictures, if there was any hope of saving this, the blond would need constant supervision and at least twice as much stuff as the recipe called for. 

Kai would make it work, because Kai thrived in impossible situations, and that was enough to make Leo all warm and fuzzy on the inside again.

“I suppose your points have some merit,” Kai allowed with a brief nod of his head.  He abandoned the catalogue as Leo suggest and, to Leo’s increasing surprise, looped his arm around the brunette’s, guiding them towards the baking goods isle as a unit.  “You should return to the Commander after this is finished though.”

“You could just call him Eric.”

“I could.” Kai nodded.  “After all, he is one of ours, isn’t he?”

There were moments – growing less frequent than when they had initially met, but still present – where Leo wasn’t sure what Kai was talking about.  He had learned, in time, to simply go with his gut.  To fake it until he made it, as it were.

“Hell yes, he is,” Leo replied without hesitation.  “And ours deserve cake!”

“One of your more heartfelt rallying calls,” the blue ranger quipped quietly.

Oh.  Oh, it was _on_.

Leo turned, resting his chin against Kai’s shoulder conspiratorially.  “For _cake_.” 

“For cake,” Kai agreed. 

He didn’t wink, but there was that subdued twinkle in this eye that Leo in no way imagined, and in every way adored.


	2. Finding a Pencil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second installation of party-misdirection for dummies.

“Do you think we overdid it with the streamers?”

Justin didn’t reach up to rub away the headache that was steadily growing between his eyes.  Any sign of weakness would be attacked with too much vigor on the trail of good intentions, and he honestly didn’t have the patience, or energy, to deal with it.

He did sigh though, because he was human, and there was only so much he could do.  “The answer to that question ten minutes ago was ‘Yes’, so I’m gonna go ahead and say that now, ten minutes later, the answer is _still_ yes.”

“Are you sure?” Posed by the stepladder they had procured from Eric’s garage, Trip was the model picture of ‘party decorator’.  Equipped with a tool belt solely dedicated to paper streamers, balloons, and various ribbons, Trip looked like a goth had thrown up on him, if only because of Wes’ stringent black-white-and-red only rules.  Smart move on the blond’s part, as Trip had been vying for a rainbow motif in the weeks of preparation up to this momentous occasion.  There had been disappointment, sure, but Trip seemed to be making up the lack of color variation via immense quantities, hence Eric’s ceilings and walls being decked out in far more paper arcs, twists, and braids than could ever be considered necessary.

Mike had relieved Trip’s balloon authority about two hours ago (a blessing for all their sakes – the Magna Defender deserved a trophy at the very least), but with a stubbornness Trip refused to acknowledge but irrefutably possessed, the green ranger had kept a few bags in his tool belt.  For no other reason than spite, Justin was sure. 

Sarcasm was a tempting response.  Some might consider it tragic that it felt like the most natural reply to the earnest stream of sunshine that was Trip Regis.  Maybe a dramatic roll of the eyes delivered alongside a ‘Why, _sure_ I’m sure’ and then an immediate retreat back to what he had been doing before, clearing away furniture to the outskirts of the room to allow for proper ‘mingle-ability’.  Justin had stopped questioning the term an hour ago.  The joint forces of Kelsey-and-Katie (hyphen necessary, they were an unstoppable union) were too mighty to deny on even the most tenuous subjects.  Perhaps _especially_ those subjects.

Getting bossed around by yellow rangers, since when did this become his life?

Trip was still looking at Justin with those painfully earnest baby browns that had Wes wrapped around the green ranger’s finger, but Justin wasn’t buying it, no sir.  He was not at all invested in this needlessly exasperating, unreasonable, incomprehensible-

“Yeah,” the word gushed out of him, not as a surrender, but not totally the reassurance for the party activities Justin had sworn would never exist because they were for party-preparing activities.  “I’m sure.  You’re good Trip.  Consider your duty done.”

Trip contemplated him for a second, then looked to the ceiling to admire his handiwork, nodding slowly.  Justin would not make the mistake of assuming this meant the Xybrian agreed with him in any way.  He knew better by this point.

This was why he was not disappointed a few seconds later when the green ranger declared.  “At least, for the living room.  Now, onto the kitchen.”

“Or we could-”

“The kitchen!”

Justin surrendered with grace.  Scowling, but with grace.

-:-:-:-:-

“You’re overcomplicating this.”

Commander Collins glared at the eggs resting in the cardboard carton on the counter, eyes cataloging each shells’ potential threat against his person.

Kai would never be one to condemn exercising caution when approaching any kind of situation, combative and non-combative alike, but he could admit, in time, that there were certain instances where excessive trepidation negated the benefit such caution generally provided.  It was an exercise in balance, and one Kai felt could only be mastered in time.  This was why he had chosen to speak to the commander as opposed to allowing him to continue his fruitless buildup of paranoia.  It was inefficient.

It was probably not conveyed as kindly as it could have been, but Kai was all too familiar with the potential miscommunications that rested in flowery suggestion and innuendo.  English was an arduously grating language, born with the same phrases and colloquialisms of any culture, and Kai found it much more effective to simply say what he meant.  He had not been built for subterfuge, or even basic commiseration.  Getting this far should be commended.  Were Kai comfortable with self-praise, this would probably be an appropriate situation. 

The commander seemed to take Kai’s admonishment in stride.  Showing no negative effects save for what was reserved for the eggs.  “But they’re so…”

“Delicate, yes.”  Kai nodded, projecting an aura of confidence as a means to provide comfort.  “Especially with our enhanced strength.  That does not make them an insurmountable trial, but more of a…”

“Bump in the road?” The commander pulled his eyes away from the carton for the first time since Kai had opened them on the counter.  Whatever fears he possessed seemed to be temporarily abated in favor of a smile.  The expression caused the lines by his eyes to crinkle, forming a not altogether unpleasant expression.  It wasn’t one Kai was entirely familiar with, or comfortable with having aimed at himself alone, though he had gradually grown more accustomed to such looks via Leo.  It was…nice.

“Indeed.”  Kai shook off the distraction – an unnecessary observation – and held onto the facts.  They were the one thing that could not be refuted and as such, they provided the ultimate comfort.  “Handle them with care, and instead of cracking them against the edge of the counter, use the flat surface to provide an even break.  This way, there is less risk of egg yolk running down the side of your counter.”

The commander laughed, a small, derisive sound.  “Could have used that advice a couple of hours ago.”

“I would have been happy to supply it, had you asked.”  That reply was easy, for it was true.  Kai was always willing to help out his allies in any capacity that he was able.  “However, to mourn what could have been is a useless exercise.  Let us work on what we can control.”

The commander’s grin widened, his blue eyes bright in what Leo would probably consider trepidation.  “Sounds like a proper plan, captain.”

“Technically, I’m an ensign,” Kai replied with a smile of his own.  “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

It was not how he had intended to spend his afternoon in preparation for Eric’s party, here, in Commander Collin’s spacious kitchen, but he did not find it a distasteful alternative.  Perhaps, in a way, it was even better.

It was a tantalizing thought.

-:-:-:-:-

“Swing, battah-battah-battah, _swing-_ ”

“The batting cages were nixed Taylor, get over it,” Hunter snapped, waving a lazy hand in the yellow ranger’s direction while he kept his eye on the tiny plastic ball resting at his feet.  In Rocky’s opinion, the amount of concentration the thunder ranger exerted on lining up each putt on the mini-golf course was inversely related to his performance, and as such, watching his dwindling path into absolute failure was probably going to be as much fun as golfing itself.

It probably didn’t help that a majority of their ‘party goers’ happened to possess some die-hard competitive streaks (looking at you, Hunter-Taylor-Lucas-Eric (no matter how much the latter denied it)).  Ultimate defensive skills for saving the world all of them had, but it seemed for some that combat training did not translate to putt-putt skills. 

Carter had intervened when Taylor had started questioning Hunter’s ‘super ninja abilities’ at hole 2, but the blond’s critiques were probably only second in harshness in comparison to Lucas, so the steaming pile of frustration building up over there wasn’t the most pleasant thing in the world. 

Rocky ultimately decided that he was grateful for Alex’s presence (as confused by that as he had been for like, five seconds, until he saw how Lucas looked at him).  The brunette seemed to be a solid presence for countering Lucas’ sour mood, obliviously relieving the blue ranger’s tension with an endless stream of questions about the game, its purpose, the strategy, and other things that were incredibly adorable to watch.

Adam had already elbowed Rocky about three times for lack-of-stealth when watching their interactions, but the only person noticing _him_ (aside from his super-studly boyfriend) was Eric, and if he weren’t so busy being all cool-guy stoic, he would have totally backed Rocky on his teammates’ complete _charm_. 

“For the love of god Bradley,” Eric drawled, metal club propped against his hip so he could fold his arms across his chest in a relaxed picture of boredom.  “Take the swing.”

“Strategy requires time, jackass,” Hunter replied easily, his eyebrows furrowed in an expression of determination that was doomed to fail.

Taylor snorted, club propped against her shoulder like some kind of resting weapon.  “What strategy?  Hit the ball.  If you don’t suck, it goes in the hole.”

There was an almost-proud feeling in Rocky’s chest when Hunter didn’t deign her response with so much as a glare.  Baby steps.  So proud. 

Carter sighed, a put upon thing that bemoaned his position as the mature one in the group (Adam had declined the role through the simple act of not talking, which would probably be something the Lightspeed ranger would be bitter about later).  Frankly, it was impressive that it had taken this long to wear at his patience.  Props to that guy.

“Not everyone recklessly rushes into things,” Lucas _(of all freaking people)_ chided, instigating a scoff-eyeroll-snort combination from the Quantum-Eagle team-up that was practically artful in its synchronization. 

Alex angled his head towards his teammate, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took in Hunter’s serious posture.  “I don’t understand,” he muttered quietly, aiming, Rocky was sure, to keep his comment out of Eric’s hearing.  “If this is just a pastime, then what need does it serve to excel when there is no practical purpose?”

Lucas stiffened – in part, Rocky suspected, because he was one of those implied to be uselessly-competitive individuals, and partly because of Alex’s close proximity.  It was adorable, those two.  Rocky was almost sad about the no-camera rule Carter had established at the beginning of their golf-day.

_Almost_.  The rule was there for good reason, if Leo’s birthday party was anything to (hazily) remember.

That had not been a great morning-after for hungover-Rocky.

Adam, feeling kind (and sexy, but that went without saying.  Guy just _oozed_ it), stepped in to answer for Lucas.  “The same purpose as any other extra-curricular activity people get worked up over,” he began with a sly smile (because he was a _troll_ , no matter how much Tommy insisted Adam was the ‘cool, thoughtful, rock’ of their team, he was a _rock-troll_ ).  “Pride.”

Alex, still leaning forward, chin hovering above Lucas’ shoulder, considered this with a blink.  After a few seconds he nodded, confusion disappearing in a _completely hilarious_ way, because hey – Alpha male behavior was a perpetual constant through time.  It was both amazing and depressing for society as a whole.

Still, it was a bit comforting to know that some things would always be constant.

“It’s not pride if you’re defending your reputation as an awesomely capable human being,” Hunter defended, his super-ninja hearing picking up the conversation no problem. 

“That’s the exact definition of ‘pride’,” Rocky noted.  As much as he would have loved to see Adam delivery that nugget of knowledge in that dry, deadpan way of his that was more viscous than the sharpest wit Hunter could offer; Carter still hadn’t caught onto the whole troll-thing, and Rocky wanted to push that realization off for as long as possible. 

Hey, he had to figure it out on his own – no way was Rocky going to make it easy on anyone else.

Hunter rolled his eyes – drastic enough that Rocky wasn’t totally sure if it was for show, or a legitimate response to Rocky’s ‘ignorance’.  “It’s called basic human decency,” he countered.  “Now watch and learn as I show you how _decent_ I am.”

Rocky looked away when the blond pulled the putter back, sharing a mischievous look with Adam as he listened for the familiar sound of plastic on metal, only to be immediately overwhelmed by intense heckling and laughter from the rangers closest to the putting mound.

“Should we allow him to retry since it went off course?” Alex asked, the confusion-brows morphing into more of a concerned thing (and probably still confused) as he watched Hunter traipse into the bushes next to the hole, grumbling and cursing all the while.

Carter sighed, shaking his head in defeat.  “Maybe we should just do teams.”

“I don’t see how that would make it better,” Adam noted, still smiling.  Oh, sure it was because he was just a nice guy, and not because he was secretly evil just the tiniest bit.

“It wouldn’t,” Carter agreed.  “But I don’t see how it could make it worse.”

“Famous last words.”  Rocky grinned, even in the face of Carter’s weariness.  There was being a helpful teammate, and then there was taking your lumps.

Carter, for all his well-rounded do-goodness, was due for a little hassle.

As though knowing his cue, the Lightspeed agent squared his shoulders and approached the four rangers (the urge to snark at Hunter had outweighed Lucas’ need to stay with Alex) arguing in the bushes, saving the general public from excessive fallout of their discourse. 

Adam sidled up to Rocky smoothly, metal putter resting against his shoulder like a sword.  “You’re a fountain of wisdom.”

“From you, I shall take that as a compliment.”

Alex, on the other side of Adam, shifted towards them.  “Would it be an insult from someone else?”  The look on his face after he asked it indicated that he had meant to keep the question to himself, and Adam and Rocky were kind enough not to laugh at the face of mild horror as the brunette hurriedly rushed on.  “We should get them out of the bushes.”

“We should do a lot of things,” Rocky agreed.  “But yeah, bush removal probably isn’t a bad idea.”

Not like they needed to get banned from the golf course as well.

Though that _would_ make for a good story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification, Wes and Kai are occupying the kitchen at Wes’ mansion, while the rest of the party preparations are taking place at Eric’s house (a.k.a. the place Trip is streamer-bombing with unapologetically reckless abandon).
> 
> Adam would be a troll. He would. 
> 
> Until next time :)


	3. Pizza with Sausage

“Can we take this moment to be kind of mad at Wes?”  Blake was frowning down at the squares of croissant dough laid out in front of him, eyes darting between the freakishly identical dough shapes and the pan of tomato sauce beside him, as though he still could not determine how these two items connected to each other.  “This was going to be Kai’s job, right?”    

Shane dutifully did not look up from his block of cheese.  Kai had left very exact instructions on how each type of cheese was supposed to be cut for proper ‘platter preparation’, and he was not going to let Blake’s complaining distract him when he had finally figured it all out.  “Yes to the second part, and a definite ‘no’ to the first.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Whiner,” Shane replied easily, eyes narrowing in concentration.  He had a feeling that if these were not as exact as the dough Kai had left out for them, someone ( _him_ ) was going to get an earful.

Except it was Kai, so it would be less of an earful and more of a dismissive glance that felt kind of more devastating than a full blown-out lecture ever could so…yeah, cheese squares.

Shane spent the majority of his day-to-day activities actively fighting off a maniacal space ninja from taking over the Earth, he could handle cheese squares.

Or was it supposed to be triangles?  

_Damn it_ , why did this have to seem deceptively achievable? 

“Diner,” Blake countered in the meantime, proving his point by popping a handful of the peperoni shreds (also all uniform in width) into his mouth. 

Shane frowned, and actively did not double-check Kai’s instructions.  If it hadn’t been squares, he was pleading innocence.  Or, confusion, at the very least.  He was supposed to be on music duty with Tori and Cam, while Blake was supposed to be with Hunter and the others, but Kai’s rearrangement had all of them shuffled around. 

“Save those for the pizza rolls,” he chided.  “Speaking of which…”  Shane nodded his head meaningful tlyowards the supplies laid out in front of Blake, the freshly-grated mozzarella cheese resting in a metal bowl next to the homemade marinara sauce, taking up residence with the shredded pepperoni.  Kai hadn’t dismissed the menu as ‘too simple’ when Wes had created it – because surprisingly enough, Kai was probably one of the least-judgmental people Shane had ever met – but if the blue ranger was going to be in charge of actually cooking it, he had opted to take the selected food-items to their fanciest extremes. 

Blake gave an exaggerated sigh, making no effort to cover up the half-chewed food in his mouth as he set himself to work making the pizza rolls.  “Fine, I’m on it.  But don’t expect me to get any joy from this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Shane replied. 

Seriously, he wouldn’t.  There would never be an instance where he would be so woefully misguided as to assume Blake liked being second-string kitchen detail.  It wasn’t that he disliked cooking so much that he resented the fact that he had to step in when he wasn’t first in line for chef duties.

Damned if Shane would ever understand the Bradley’s and their pride-issues.  Get your face smashed in during a battle?  No shame in calling for backup.  Dare to dismiss their cooking skills?  Absolute tragedy.

Shane swore they did half of this shit just to annoy him.  Or Cam.

Cam was actually the more probable target.

“When do you think they’re gonna do it?”

Blake’s question startled Shane out of his annoyed reverie, pulling his attention away from his cheese squares (his beautiful, beautiful cheese squares) to take in the navy ranger as he sloppily scooped marinara sauce onto a croissant square.

It seemed like an innocent question, which was how Shane knew it was a trap.  First he would ask ‘ _Do what?’_ and then Blake would give him those side-eyes that perfectly emoted absolute innocence that was a _lie_ , and then they would be gossiping about something Shane probably didn’t want to be gossiping about.  That’s what always happened. 

And he fell for it, every time, because some part of him still could not believe that the thunder rangers were really a bunch of forty-year-old soccer moms at heart.

_Don’t engage.  Don’t engage.  Don’t engage-_

“Do what?” Shane asked. 

Curse him and his innate curiosity.  _Curse it to hell_.

Side-eyes were engaged, Blake gave him a glance Shane would almost consider coy if he didn’t think Tori would somehow find out about it.  And then ceaselessly make fun of him for it.  And probably make matching hats of mockery with Hunter over it, because that was how the blond’s of team Ninja Storm bonded.

“You know…” Blake drawled, even though Shane had very obviously just proved he _didn’t_ know.  “ _It_.”

There was no doubt in Shane’s hormonal teenage mind that _‘It’_ was a euphemism for sex. He would not give Blake the added satisfaction of requesting clarification on that front, not when he was suppressing a Cheshire cat grin as it was.

Shane sighed.  He was a bit stressed, there were four other types of cheeses that had to be cut in their own specific manner and that didn’t even knock out a quarter of the list of food they were supposed to be making. 

He was tempted to give up and cut them all the same, but the imaginary weight of Kai’s disapproval glance kept him pressing steadily forward.

Still, he played his part.  As long as Blake was entertained, the navy ranger would keep working. 

He would keep working regardless, but if Shane just went along with the conversation, there was a possibility to relieve some of the anticipation Blake seemed to be trembling with in an effort to keep himself contained, so it was talk, or deal with antsy Blake.

Tori knew better than anyone that antsy-Blake was not a person you ever wanted to meet.

“Who?” The question came out in a defeated sigh, but it didn’t deter Blake in the slightest.

“Wes and Eric,” the navy ranger replied automatically, words trampling on the end of Shane’s query, making no effort to hide the fact that he was waiting for that exact question.  “I have a running bet with Hunter and Dustin about when they’re-”

“Gonna do _‘it’_ ,” She repeated the earlier words with a roll of his eyes.  “You guys should know better than to bet on rangers’ love-lives.”

Blake shrugged, grabbing a handful of cheese.  “Way I figure, there’s no way any other team could have as many issues as ours did-”

“Yours being that you wouldn’t build up the courage to ask Tori on a date,” Shane muttered.

“-Seeing as they are mature adults who already went through their awkward stages-” Blake shot him a dangerous look that indicated he heard Shane but was going to do him the courtesy of ignoring the red ranger.

“My awkward stage is my life,” Shane _very maturely_ grumbled in retaliation.

“-it is only _reasonable_ ,” Blake continued, raising his voice in an obnoxious manner.  “That Wes and Eric’s inevitable copulation occur in a…reasonable manner.”

At this, Shane stopped.  “At a birthday party?”

It was deadpanned.  Said in a slow drawling manner that was his best Hunter-imitation, oozing disbelief with a side of ‘you’re-dumb-for-even- _slightly_ -thinking-that’ that was supposed to transition the conversation in a completely different direction.  Perhaps, there would be a light-hearted bicker ending in wild conspiracy theories about other unworldly things that were possible because of their ranger-status.  Or something.  It was supposed to be a mild deterrent, at least.

Blake took it at face-value and ran with it, because Shane was a fool who thought the younger Bradley would follow a logical conversational path.

“A birthday party with _booze_ ,” Blake elaborated, wagging his eyebrows for extra emphasis.  “Think about it; they break into some drinking games, maybe they have a bit too much, Wes stays with Eric to make sure the birthday boy’s okay and… one thing leads to another, a.k.a. drunken fond confessions as they stare off into the starry night-”

Shane raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to interject, but Blake waved him off.  “That was Dustin’s contribution.”

The air ninja closed his mouth with a nod, all too familiar with Dustin’s romantic-star-gazing insistencies.  It was easier to go along with him than to argue.

“-and then _bam_ , instant make outs,” Blake concluded, clapping his hands together for emphasis.  “Next thing you know, Eric makes the rounds, calling everyone and cussing them out for the surprise party, and then he not-so-subtly lets out the secret that he doesn’t really want to cover up all that much in the first place that he and Wes did _it_ , and I get fifty dollars.”

“You’re very confident about this conclusion,” Shane noted.  It wasn’t a difficult observation with Blake preening with smugness.  “What does Hunter have to say about this?”

“Typical Hunter insanity,” Blake dismissed with a roll of his eyes.  “He’s insistent on this Wes-Kai-Eric-Leo _thing_ that no one else is buying – except Cyber Cam so, you know, not much of a vote of confidence there.”

“He _is_ a super computer,” Shane pointed out.

“So I’ll trust him with my laptop,” Blake replied.  “But I’m not trusting behavioral observations from a guy with who still uses the word ‘tubular’ in a non-ironic fashion.”

Shane frowned, looking up from his cutting board.  “Trip uses ‘tubular’.”

“Trip was born on _another planet_ ,” Blake countered.  “Also, one thousand years in the future. Trip gets a pass.”

But Cyber Cam was unforgivable.  Sound logic, that.

Probably had to do with Cam’s contributions to that particular individual.  Blake was nothing if not thorough in his support of his brother’s sworn vendettas. 

At some point, Shane was going to have to be an actual leader of his team and _force_ Cam and Hunter into some kind of friendship zone, but for the moment, such endeavors seemed insurmountable.  Maybe they would bond over defeating Lothor, Shane could hope for that.

Fruitlessly, but he could hope.

Before Shane could offer some words of discouragement (because this should be discouraged – the whole betting thing, or he should at least get in on the action), none other than the previous topic of their conversation burst into the room, streamers trailing behind him like some kind of alternative couture cape. 

The living room must be a proper monstrosity of party decorations then.

“Thanks for the pass!” Trip cheered, flapping his hand in Shane’s general direction in what was probably a spastic wave of greeting before rounding on Blake.  “What am I passing?”

“The allowable tolerance for use of the word ‘tubular’,” Blake replied immediately, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he added a pinch of peperoni shreds on top of his current sauce/cheese/dough monstrosity.  It seemed that _someone_ was not fearing of potential Kai-disappointment.  Maybe it was a blue-ranger thing, like Blake was immune. 

Or maybe he was just _spiteful_ , which was the more logical conclusion.

Go Shane’s team, totally not-full of spastic, unbalanced individuals.  _Yaaaay_.

In the meantime, Trip’s face lit up with a smile that could only be considered ‘incomprehensibly pleased’ (term coined by Justin).  “Tubular!” he cheered, pumping a fist into the air.  The roll of crape paper in his grasp looked like it wanted to make a serious break for it, but the Xybrian managed to hold on, enthusiasm transferred into a small happy dance.  “Could you tell that to Lucas?  He keeps saying that I’m not using it right-”

“No one uses it right,” Blake offered sagely.  “But you make it work.”  Trip paused, halting his dance with a quizzical look on his face, and Blake added, “I’ll be sure to tell Lucas.”

Trip smiled, and with that, the happy dance resumed.

Not that Shane would ever forget it, but it was moments like these where Blake’s true _evil_ shined through.  The guy seriously gave no damns.

It was dangerous behavior though, so Shane had every intention of tattling to Tori about it later.  Blake may not fear the wrath of other blue rangers, but he had no intention of ever crossing the Aqua water ranger without good reason.

They had to pick _sides_ the last time those two had fought, it had been awful.  Shane shuddered thinking about it, and he knew Dustin still had nightmares about the passive-aggressive awkward silences to this day.

Thank goodness for sensei, was all Shane had to say about that.  Thank goodness for their tiny, Guinea pig sensei and the tinier, barely legible peace-treaty that was framed above his habitat in Ninja Ops.

Shane was pretty sure that had been the work of Cyber Cam, but he wouldn’t put it past Blake to offer some adorable interior decorating upgrades as his own private peace offering to Tori.

He was pretty sure these were the kinds of things they were supposed to talk about at those ‘red ranger’ meetups Leo had told him about, but Shane was mildly terrified that his ‘quirky’ teammate stories wouldn’t come close to any of the other leader’s team-problems.  _That_ would certainly be a fun day he hoped never-ever happened.  Maybe he’d get sick for the next one.  And then ‘infect’ Hunter.  And then barricade both of them in Ninja Ops, because…sickness.

Really, Shane was just trying to take things one day at a time.

“Say Trip…” Blake began innocently enough, having waited for Trip to start scoping at the kitchen cabinets for his next streamer victim.  “As their teammate, what’s your opinion on the whole Wes-and-Eric…?” He trailed off with a waggle of his eyebrows.  “You know.”

Trip, whose acclimation to subtlety was equal to Lothor’s acclimation of not-going on a murderous rampage, blinked in confusion.  “I know what?”

“He thinks Wes and Eric want to get it on.”  Shane had heard Justin coming down the hallway, and momentarily celebrated the presence of another mature individual. 

At first, the Turbo ranger had been an acquired taste, but Shane had come to realize that Justin’s superior intellect had forced him into the Hunter-mindset of living, i.e. being grumpy to everyone and pretending you don’t care even if you really very much care. 

It was a survival mechanism Shane didn’t blame him for, but he was still incredibly glad when Justin had dropped the act and allowed Shane the title of ‘friend’.  It gave him another sane person to talk to (aside from Tori and sensei), and it was always nice to get a non-ninja perspective, as Shane was beginning to learn that those could be a ‘bit’ skewed.

Trip opened his mouth for another question, and Justin cut him off with a gentle wave of his hand.  “‘It’ being sex,” he elaborated.  “Which is ridiculous, as Eric can barely manage friendship with Collins.  Why you think this is a recipe for love, I will never know.”

Blake rolled his eyes, figuratively laughing in the face of Justin’s deduction.  “You, of all people, should realize that whatever aggravation they had disappeared a while ago.  Now,” Blake leveled the sauce spoon in Justin’s direction, specks of tomato dripping onto his poorly-constructed pizza blobs.  “They are building up a sexual tension that needs to be relieved-”

“Only you could say the words ‘sexual tension’ with a straight face and sound _genuine._ ”  Justin shuddered, the utter lack of his appreciation apparent in every movement.  “And you are watching too many soap operas if you think Wes and Eric will be a thing.”

“What did you mean ‘him of all people’?” Trip added, focusing on the very part of Blake’s statement Shane had been hoping he would overlook.  “Why would Justin know-?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Blake kept his gaze on Justin when he interrupted, which was a mistake.  It was a mistake in so many ways.

The first and foremost of these being that Justin’s protective nature of all things Trip-related was going to kick in _now_ , insistent that the green ranger not be treated less just because of cultural ignorance, which would lead to an argument they never needed to have to begin with, because the whole thing was _dumb_.

“Children,” Shane sighed, earning the irritated glares of two blue rangers.  “Play nice, this is a happy day.”

“What do you mean ‘him of all people’?” Trip added, focusing on the very part of Blake’s statement Shane had been hoping he would overlook.

From his position by the doorway, Justin froze, frown settling onto his features as he looked at Blake with narrowed eyes.  There was a warning in that gaze.

A warning that would be completely ignored, if Blake’s barely-restrained glee was any indication.  “What I _mean_ is-”  

“That Justin’s a smart guy; ergo, he knows many things,” Shane interrupted, chucking a cheese square at Blake that the other ranger expertly snatched out of the air.  “That’s all he meant.”

Trip blinked, Justin’s shoulders relaxed, and Blake finally gave into laughter, having the decency to at least stifle his mirth with the palm of his hand.  Of course, that in itself earned Justin’s ire once more, but it wasn’t the usual overwhelming rage that resulted from anything Trip-related, so Shane was going to count it as a victory.

For a moment, Trip looked considering, rotating one of the rolls of streamer in his hands.  “I don’t know about sex,” he replied eventually.  “But they are in love, so I suppose that could be a natural progression of their relationship.”

Shane’s knife slipped, dicing the poor cheese slice in front of him into a triangle instead of a square.  He took a second to mourn that instead of worrying about the startled sputter from Justin, the brunette seeming to choke on nothing, much to Blake’s amusement. 

Carefully, Shane set his incorrectly-diced cheese triangles aside and willed his headache away, making the laudable decision to check out of this conversation.  

” _Love_ ,” Justin managed, sharing no such sentiment.  “You think they _love-?_ ”

 “Don’t think.” Trip’s reply was distracted, the Xybrian having moved on from the confusing customs of Earthlings in favor of finding the best place to start his newest streamer atrocity.  “I _know_ it.  It’s-” He made a broad waving motion, something Shane was almost certain the green ranger had picked up from Hunter.  “Obvious, you know?”

 “No.” Justin seemed to compose himself for the declaration to be firm, his eyes narrowing into an annoyed glare as he took in the green ranger.  “It’s not obvious, because it’s not real.”

Trip’s head rolled back, a tired, almost _defeated_ sigh escaping his lips as he looked up towards the ceiling.

_That_ , he had definitely gotten from Hunter.  “Humans,” he muttered.

“That’s racist,” Blake noted with a smile that just…would not quit.  His demand for entertainment/gossip/drama had been met plus some, keeping the soccer-mom within thoroughly satisfied for at _least_ the next ten minutes.  Maybe.

“It’s _true_ ,” Trip whined, snatching a chair from the kitchen table and shoving next to the counter so he could reach the ceiling and start his work.  “How can you not see that they belong to each other-?”

“With my _eyes_ ,” Justin replied, radiating annoyance that was somewhat dampened by the concerned gaze he kept shooting Trip in what would probably be a precarious position on the chair (for Trip, as clumsiness was not an attribute so much as a way of living for the Xybrian).  “Humans have a completely different sociality, a different _cultur_ e.  You can’t apply Xybrian rules to a concept that is continuously adapting.”

Blake, catching the possibility of a cultural discussion and immediately dismissing it at boring, cut in before Trip could reply.  “What about Kai and Leo?  What’s your take on their romantic entanglement with Wes and Eric?”

“I thought you didn’t support Hunter’s ‘insane’ theory,” Shane noted.  Partly to defend his boyfriend’s unwise betting decision, and partly to call Blake out on being a little pot-stirring shit.

Blake shrugged Shane’s criticism off with a lazy shift of his shoulders.  “I’m interested in his cultural interpretation.”

Justin scoffed.  “You’re interested in not-being bored.  I heard Hunter’s theory, it’s just as jank as yours.”

“It’s not a theory,” Trip insisted, haphazardly slapping a piece of tape on top of the bundle of streamers he had been holding in place.  “It’s true.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Justin sighed.

“It’s none of our business,” Shane offered. 

The room at large ignored him.

“Just wait for tonight,” Blake insisted, his earlier excitement building up again at the prospect of a new(ish) audience.  “Wait for them to get boozed up-”

“Under no conditions do I want to hear anymore underage individuals toss around the words ‘boozed up’ today.”  Jason – the original red ranger that Shane wasn’t totally in-awe of to the point that he had to forcibly restrain himself into a subdued, cool disposition each time he talked to him – walked into the room like some kind of saving grace, the booze in-question packed away in two cardboard boxes that he balanced easily in his arms.  “But out of curiosity, _who_ is getting boozed up?”

“Wes and Eric,” Blake replied before Justin had a chance to cut him off.  “They will booze, and they will have sex, and I will get fifty bucks.”

Jason laughed, dumping his boxes on the counter by the fridge and reaching out to ruffle Blake’s hair, because he was an amazing individual and Shane was secretly in love with him a little bit.  Just, a bit.  Hunter was cool with it, Hunter also being the individual that spread the ‘Blake _loves_ frequent signs of affection that rhyme with ‘snair buffling’’, because if the Bradleys were ruthless to anyone, it was definitely each other.

Shane and Tori had long ago given up on understanding how their boyfriends worked. Life was better that way.

“Sounds like easy money,” Jason noted in a tone that was congratulatory.  “Who’d you get to take you up on that bet?”

Blake’s irritation vanished immediately in favor of absolute smugness.  “Hunter and-”

“How can you _say_ that?” Justin groused.  He had moved from his position in the doorway to graciously help out Shane with cheese cutting, and together they had graduated to ‘wedges’.  “They’re not dating and they will never _be-_ ”

“They’re not dating?” Jason paused, one bottle of liquor (Shane couldn’t read the label from where he was; the only discerning feature was that it was _blue_ ).  “Of course they’re dating.  How could they not-be dating?”

The older ranger looked to Shane, of all people, for confirmation, and then the air ninja immediately found himself the focus of four very curious pairs of eyes.  Or, three-and-a-half, technically, since Trip’s turn to face him had landed the green ranger in a precarious tilt, and Justin had to split his attention between Trip and Shane because he refused to admit that he was stupidly in love with the green ranger.

“Well…” Blake prompted, pulling Shane from his reverie.  “You have more experience with un-acknowledged love than anyone else-”

Shane raised a justifiably unimpressed eyebrow at the navy ranger.  “Pot,” he drawled.  “Kettle.  I am not taking that critique from you.”

“I didn’t make Tori cry,” Blake griped.

“I didn’t make Hunter cry either,” Shane shot back, even as his mind meandered over to the one time he kind of did make Hunter cry, but it totally wasn’t his fault that he had gotten a bolder _smashed into him_.  It had literally teleported from out of nowhere. 

He was a ninja, not omnipotent.

“I feel like this is a story we could all benefit from hearing,” Jason noted.  “But first of all, _what_ do you mean they’re not dating?”

Shane sighed, looking down at his cheeses.  At least there were only three more to go.

It could be worse.

“Well,” Jason began in response to something Blake had said.  “This is going to make my birthday present kind of awkward.”

And _there_ was the worse. 

It was good to know that some things in life would always be predictable.

-:-:-:-:-:-

“I’m not sure what part of you thought this was a good idea, but this was not a good idea.” 

The voice came from beside Alex.  He had heard the other ranger’s approached, but he had assumed by the amount of stealth exhibited by the individual that it had been Mr. Park, or Mr. Bradley. 

To his surprise, it had been someone else entirely, but the stranger seemed content enough to treat Alex with a familiarity that they did not in any way possess.  Perhaps it was a source of entertainment for him.

“It may seem like a good idea, no wait-” The man jumped up, firing off a few shots with the ‘laser gun’ (Alex was intimately familiar with laser weaponry, and this contraption, complete with oversized, nonconforming receptor vest, did not qualify for such) before ducking back behind the cover Alex had backed himself into about two minutes into this game of ‘laser tag’.

It seemed remarkably similar to some of the simulation exercises ran by cadets at Time Force, but the black light combined with fluorescent, exaggerated images splayed across the walls, with noise constantly blasting (Lucas had explained it was this era’s version of the ‘greatest musical hits’, upon which Alex had immediately given his condolences to this era’s citizens) made it feel more childish than useful.

“Hilarious maybe,” The stranger continued, his eyes focused on the mirror and holes around them, in search of other prey.  “No, hilarious _definitely_ – but I feel like the obvious call for trouble outweighs the entertainment benefits.  Also, nice hair, but I don’t think Eric’s going to be super-fooled by it.”  The stranger shifted, moving with quiet grace to the other side of the opening of Alex’s corner, aiming his ‘gun’ with narrowed eyes before firing off a few ‘laser’ shots.  “Flattered, maybe, but not fooled.  Did you already get the cake-thing worked out?”

“I assume Commander Collins is still consumed with preparation.”  The pieces fell together for Alex, creating a neat picture that could be the only explanation for the stranger’s behavior.  “I’m the Commander’s decedent, Alex Collins.”

Based on the previous reactions Alex had received upon sharing this fact (his ancestor was well-liked among this group, Alex could acknowledge that much, though he preferred the commander remain in the unaddressed corners of his mind), Alex had been expecting disappointment.  It would ultimately shift to confusion, then annoyance or ambivalent acceptance, and then Alex would add another mental tally to the list of reasons he should not have accompanied the others to the past.

Lucas’ insistence had been…thoughtful, Alex supposed, but Alex’s presence did not seem to serve much of a purpose to the individual they were supposed to be celebrating.  Alex had never met Commander Meyers before today, only knew of him through Lucas’ stories. 

The brunette hadn’t asked for them, but Lucas rarely heeded the boundaries of what Alex considered necessary in his life.  Food was also on that list. 

In the wake of expected confusion, it took Alex a few seconds to realize his new companion had not been thrown by this information at all.  “His descendent from the future?  You work with the rest of Wes’ team, right?  Congrats on not-dying, by the way.”

“Yes, yes, and thank you.”  Alex shifted his ‘gun’ from one palm to the other, using it as a distraction to will away the uncomfortable feelings that surrounded the memory of Ransik’s escape and his failure to integrate into Jen’s team. 

It wasn’t even a memory he truly possessed anymore, since the timestream was altered. 

“You’re welcome.”  The other man said it blithely, shooting off another beam of light before ducking back down behind the safety of the black paneled wall.  “What did I miss”

“There was a round of golf.”  Lucas had already begun to recount it as the ‘stuff of legends’, though Alex failed to see how entertainment could be derived from watching a grown man miss a plastic ball four times in a row.  Even after they had split into teams, the entire affair seemed more…befuddling than joyful.

The Commander appeared to be in good spirits at the end though, which was, Alex supposed, what ultimately mattered.

“Ah _hell_ , I had been looking forward to that,” the stranger muttered, eyes narrowing as he focused on a point in the distance.  “Who won?  Please tell me it wasn’t Eric.  I know it’s his birthday and he’s your teammate and that friendship would imply inherent support, but it would be way better if-”

The stranger turned to face Alex for this last part, cutting himself off with a few confused blinks.

He wasn’t self-conscious under the inspection, but Alex felt himself shifting despite that fact, looking over the other man’s shoulder, towards the entrance of their hideaway.  Vigilance was important in any exercise, even one as trivial as this.

Alex managed his new vigil for a grand total of two seconds before the stranger asked, “Did I hurt your feelings?”

Confusion was…an obvious response.  Alex did not feel shame for surrendering to it. 

“Oh shit, I hurt your feelings,” the other ranger continued before Alex could respond to the negatory.  “I shouldn’t have mentioned the dying-thing.”

“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” Alex assured.

The stranger immediately disregarded this statement.  “I totally hurt your feelings, I’m sorry.”

“You _didn’t_ hurt my feelings.”  He could feel his jaw tighten, teeth clenched together as he forced himself to find a calmer mental place.  It was the noise, he decided.  The awful noise and flashing lights and childish sounds emitting from these equally childish and unnecessary ‘laser’ gear. 

“Can I hug you?” the stranger continued, eyes wide and earnest.

It reminded Alex distantly of Trip, eager to correct himself upon executing some social faux pas and Alex- he wasn’t any better.  Would never be any better.  He barely navigated conversations with minimal social grace, he would never be one to critique the Xybrian, and he wouldn’t hold anything against this stranger, regardless of whatever wrongs he felt had been committed.

Words were just that, words.  Meaningless.  Feelings inspired by the careless use of them were useless and misguided, and Alex was neither of those things.

With that in mind, Alex abandoned whatever conversational civility he had managed and opted for the authoritative tone that had gotten him through so many missions in Time Force.  “No, you may not, and-”

“I’m going to hug you now,” the ranger said, oblivious to Alex’s firm demand. 

And then Alex had an armful of a person he _still_ didn’t truly know, and… it wasn’t the end of the world.

“Sorry,” the stranger said quietly, his breath warm against Alex’s ear.  “I get the whole awkward-thing.  I mean, I have a teammate who’s the epitome of graceless conversations, but you need to know that your feelings matter, and I’m sorry for hurting them.”

“You didn’t hurt them,” Alex insisted. 

Even as he gradually returned the hold, the stranger needed to know this much.

“I’ve been told the first step to enlightenment is to accept what has been for what it is, and embrace what will be with an open mind.” The stranger offered.  “Of course, that was said by a dude much smarter than I am, so there’s a chance I’m misquoting something.”

“I think the current rendition has some merit,” Alex found himself replying.  He should have broken the hold by now, but it was…comfortable.  Odd, but comfortable.

The only one who felt truly this easy with physical demonstrations of affection – who felt the need, more accurately – was Trip.  Even though Alex did not know who this person was – or to what team they belonged – the Time Force agent found the exchange…refreshing.

The stranger laughed.  “Should have known you’d be a charmer.  Now…” he trailed off, finally pulling back from the hold he had all but thrown himself into.  “I believe we have some other rangers to properly destroy in laser battle.”

Alex blinked in confusion, staring down at his ‘gun’.  “I don’t believe that can be accomplished with our current equipment.”

“Destroy their morale,” the stranger explained off-handedly.  “Like so.”

He stood up, fired off a few rapid shots of his laser ‘gun’, and ducked back down behind their wall. 

In the distance, the familiar sounds of a receptor vest being targeted rang out, accompanied by some not-so-muffled curses.

“ _Who the hell is FlamingLion?!_ ” Lucas’ voice shouted.  “ _Leo, are you here?!”_

“In the flesh baby!” the stranger – Leo – yelled, cackling as he let out another volley of shots.  He shifted into a crouch.  “We’d better relocate before Carter finds us.”

“I gave up on victory a while ago,” Alex admitted.  “I’m comfortable where I am, I’ll only slow you down.”

“Yeah, I don’t leave teammates behind,” Leo countered.  “So get up and let’s get moving.”

He offered Alex a hand, not even looking up as he distributed cover fire while he pulled the other brunette to his feet.

Alex wasn’t sure if it was his confidence, or the off-handed inclusion that had him following Leo.  It was nothing, just words, and words were-

Something small, and foolish, but Alex held onto it anyway.

It was nice to not be left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next time :)


	4. Five Different Crayons

“I’m pretty sure it didn’t require four of us to ice this cake.”

It was a grumble, but only for show.  Dustin knew this, because Wes couldn’t completely fight the smile off of his face as he said it, the same way Hunter couldn’t hold onto his grumpiness for _anything_ when he was trying to play the cool-tough guy in the face of Dustin’s obvious hilarity.  Please, who was he fooling?

Seriously, Dustin wasn’t sure _why_ Hunter even tried to play the uncaring-apathetic dude, he was terrible at it.  In the yellow ranger’s very humble opinion, it was far more hilarious to watch Hunter (and new best-friend Eric and like, half a dozen of the other ‘too-cool-for-school’ rangers, because apparently this was a popular attitude) _pretend_ to feel all consternated when everyone else knew they were amused.  Dustin had a couple pages devoted to it in his scrapbook. 

Shane had been very generous with this assistance when it came to making those pages.

Ever the practical one, Tori met Wes’ ‘annoyance’ with a sly grin.  “True, but four people will make it more fun.” 

“If it is worth the trade in efficiency, only time will tell,” Kai murmured, his eyes focused on smoothing down the red layer of base icing on the bigger rectangular cake.  Dustin was tackling the smaller rectangular that would make up the ‘top tier’ of the cake, making extra sure to exactly replicate Kai’s motions.

The blue Lost Galaxy ranger was a chill dude, but hard to get a read on.  While Dustin was, with time, getting better at understanding people, when it came to rangers, it was both harder and easier to test his skills.  Easier, in that they were about as quirky as his team was (which was awesome in the way that it should be awesome, and no amount of Hunter’s grumbling would convince Dustin otherwise), and harder, because even with the emotional extremes he had become accustomed to, there were some who were just…different. 

Kai was one of those, and Dustin still had no idea how the blue ranger saw him.  He tried not to worry about it though.  Even if every other ranger hated him (for the whole laser-gun-stealing thing that they all said was cool and behind them but, you know, that was a big enough catastrophe that Dustin wouldn’t blame people for residual _feelings_ on the subject), at least he had his team, and that was enough. 

At the very least, Dustin was pretty sure Eric liked him, which was what made this surprise party cake decorating fiesta all the more important.  It had to be _perfect_.

Tori paused in her duties of loading up one of the piping bags, a dollop of black icing hanging on the end of her spatula.  “Think of it as a team-building exercise.”

“Like we don’t have enough of those,” Wes chided, but there was laughter in it.  Whatever tightness Dustin had felt in his chest dissipated with the sound.  “But you know what?  I’m good with ‘the more, the merrier’ mindset right now.  Anything to keep me from ruining this cake.”

“You won’t ruin it,” Dustin assured.  “And not just because of us.  The cake’s from you, that in itself makes it un-ruinable.”

Kai’s icing knife slid across the cake top in a fluid motion, his ministrations gentle – almost graceful.  “While that logic is…unique,” he began, and Dustin absolutely was not looking on like it was some kind of food preparation ballet, even if it seemed awfully close.  “It does have merit.”

“Three against one,” Dustin said, bring the argument home before Wes could try and do something silly like object.  “We win.  Now finish loading up the icing bags.”

“Sir, yes sir.”  Wes laughed – and it was– that was relief there. 

That much Dustin could tell, had felt before, the relief in teamwork and knowing someone had your back. 

It filled Dustin with a comfortable warmth, a small amount of elation that he would remember on a rainy day.  For now, he enjoyed the moment.  It was a pretty good one, he had to admit.

“But speaking of four…” Wes continued, dolloping white icing into his own bag, careful to keep the metal piping tip covered to stop any premature icing delivery.  “Weren’t you on music duty with Cam?”

Tori shrugged.  “We delegated after Blake texted me,” she replied – which was her diplomatic way of saying ‘ _I knew Blake was acting like a pain and have now deprived him of my company as recompense’_ , because Tori was actually the secret mastermind of their team, and Cam did nothing but add fuel to that particular flame.

Dustin really loved him for it.

Wes shuddered.  “If we end up listening to classical music all night, I’m blaming you.”

“Maya’s supervising.” Tori’s grin transformed into a patented Hunter-smirk. 

“Sure, pick the non-earthling to help sort through music they’ve never heard before,” Wes chided, but he was grinning nonetheless.  “You may as well have added Zhane to the mix.”

“Who says I didn’t?” Tori replied, her eyes dancing with mischievous possibilities. 

Never had Dustin been more grateful that she was on _his_ team.

“Is there a problem with classical music?” Kai asked, breaking up the banter with a frown that edged on concern.

That was one fear Dustin could assuage.  “Nope,” the brunette replied, “It’s good.  Like, there’s this one song – I don’t remember the name – but it has this really good bit with a flute-”

“And _that’s_ what’s wrong with classical music,” Wes declared.

“There’s nothing wrong with flutes,” Kai chastised, because he and Dustin were like, having a moment here, and it was awesome.  Dustin one hundred and ten percent agreed.

“No,” Wes tried to backtrack.  “Not that, the-”

“Flutes for everyone!” Dustin cheered, pumping a fist into the air.  “Flutes for all!”

“Agreed.” Kai nodded his head sagely, shooting a (fond?) glance at Dustin.

Oh yeah, they were totally having a moment.

_Awesome_.

“Flutes for everyone,” Tori echoed, lifting her spatula up in solidarity.

Alright, so maybe it wasn’t bumper boats and mini golf, but this-

This was pretty spectacular too.  Dustin wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Well…maybe for Cam to be here too.  But who was he to comment on the inherent obviousness of his existence?

-:-:-:-:-:-

“Redemption!” Hunter’s fist was thrust into the air in a picture of triumph, unwavering to the point where it looked like a trophy.  His walk was decidedly jauntier, Adam surmised, watching the act with a level of steady amusement as the crimson Thunder ranger waved his lazer tag score card above his head.  “Suck it, Myers.  What I lack in golf-swagger I make up for in practical combat proficiencies.”

Eric, trailing a few feet behind the younger ranger, rolled his eyes at the blond’s display. 

He also, Adam noted, kept his scowl directed firmly away from his own scorecard that was crumpled in his hands.  “You still did worse than Carter.”

In a predictable show of good humor, Hunter did not allow this to dissuade him.  “Everyone did worse than Carter, that was a guarantee.  Like breathing, we knew what was going to happen going in.”

“I didn’t realize that my blaster training would translate to lazer tag,” Carter offered sheepishly, the same way he had when the scoresheets had initially come out. 

The red Lightspeed ranger had won by a huge margin, but Adam didn’t mind.  Even the more competitive in their group didn’t seem to fault Carter for his abilities.  The Lightspeed ranger was a legendary sharpshooter, it surprised a grand total of _none of them_ that he had swept all three rounds of lazer tag. 

Knowing this, it was only a natural progression that everyone else would be vying for the number two spot.  That honor had gone to Hunter twice, and Eric once – though Alex had proven to be a surprising up-and-comer in the third round, when Leo had convinced him to actually play the game.

The brunette Time Force agent was currently attempting to keep the peace between Taylor and Lucas, who had spent the majority of the games shooting at each other, and not much else.

From beside him, Rocky wore the beginnings of a particularly mischievous look – enough to tell Adam that his boyfriend had every intention of fanning the flames.

“I thought we had agreed to no special abilities,” he said lightly, grinning.  “You’ve got a ninja-skill advantage, how is that fair?”

“That argument’s bogus from you, Mr. _Ninjetti_ ,” Hunter replied, eyebrows furrowing in a comedic manner.  “But the fact that you dare to question my honor aside, I’ll have you know that _these_ skills-” The blond waved his scoresheet in emphasis.  “Are a hundred percent al _naturale_ , pooh bear.  Face it,” Hunter stopped and broke into a little dance, shimming his hips in spastic circles to the ire of one Eric Myers.  “My skills have skills.”

“And my stomach has nausea,” Eric replied without missing a beat.  “Before we have to go on watching this…” He gestured towards Hunter’s celebration, which Leo had eagerly joined.  “- _monstrosity_ any longer, what’s next?”

“Go-karts!” Lucas declared, abandoning his normal cool reserve in a fit of rarely-shown excitement.  “I mean-” He shot a quick glance to Alex, realizing he had forgotten himself. “We haven’t raced go-karts yet.”

“And it wouldn’t be a celebration if we didn’t do _that_ ,” Eric drawled, but he was already walking away, heading around clusters of young children to move towards the go-karts queue.

“Did I say that lazer tag was a bad idea?” Leo asked, sidling up on Alex’s other side as they followed the Quantum ranger.  “Because that actually seems relatively harmless in comparison to this.”

“At least it’s not the batting cages,” Adam offered with a shrug. 

Predictably, Rocky stifled a series of giggles beside him.  Somehow, the other man managed to find that particular nightmare more amusing to dwell on than horrifying.  A small gift.

Leo made a face, earning a few chuckles from Alex.  “That doesn’t really comfort me.” 

“Good thing it’s not your birthday,” Lucas replied, eyes narrowing in what Adam assumed was a threat assessment.  The Blue Time Force ranger reached out and grabbed Alex’s shoulder.  “Come on, let’s try to line up ahead of Hunter.  If he handles a go-kart like he handles a golf club-”

“I _heard_ that.” Hunter’s response was indignant, the thunder ninja darting back to ‘defend his honor’ once more.

Lucas used that as an opportunity to move ahead, pulling Alex along with him.

Away from the company of Leo, it should be noted.

Rocky leaned over; chin brushing Adam’s shoulder in a way that could be considered friendly.  “Do not _tell_ me they aren’t five thousand percent adorable,” he whispered.  “How long do you think it will be before people start placing bets?”

Adam shrugged, lips twisting into a smirk.  “I already started one with Taylor.  You’re welcome to join if you’d like.”

After a beat, Rocky laughed. “You’re an evil, evil man, Park,” he murmured quietly.  “Good thing you’re on our side.”

“You’re side,” Adam repeated.  “Always.”

“If you two are done being adorable and like, perfect-” Hunter appeared the same way he always did, silently, quickly, and without warning.  “There is a crowd of impressionable young children who do not need to witness your unbearable _charm_.” 

Rocky turned towards the blond, and Adam regretted the warmth pulling away from his shoulder.  “Their parents have to cover ‘the birds and the bees’ at some point.”

“I was referring to these children,” Hunter waved towards the backs of the retreating rangers.  “Don’t be ridiculous, the adolescents can fend for themselves.”

“Spoken like a real hero,” Adam drawled.

With an absolutely straight face, Hunter replied, “Darn tootin’.”

He then turned away on one heel, his one eighty oozing the precision of numerous training sessions, of skill and grace and years and years of practice.

Adam could sympathize with that.

“I’m really glad that kid has Dustin,” Rocky noted quietly.  “You gotta admit, that was some Dustin-influence, right?”

“I actually think that was a hundred percent Hunter.”

“Huh,” Rocky tilted his head to the side, considering.  “I think you’re a hundred percent correct.”

“I think we need to stop throwing around percentages on my day-off,” Taylor grumbled as they made their way to the back of the group.  “Math is for the working.”

“Math is for life!” Rocky cheered.

Adam grinned. “Never thought I’d see a red ranger declare that.”

“Had to happen at some point,” Rocky replied, and his chuckles weren’t entirely drowned out by the cumulative sputtering of the other rangers.

It was a good day.  It really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next time :)


	5. Coming Home Again

“I would call that a birthday celebration well done fellas.” Hunter reached both arms above his head, folding his hands together and pushing outward in a gradual stretch.  “Give yourselves a pat on the back.”

“Don’t brag about it too much,” Eric grumbled.  More for appearances sake than anything else.  Gun to his head, he would admit the kid had done a good job with…well, today.

The whole thing stunk of Hunter’s planning, but Eric couldn’t find it in himself to mind.  It was weird, still, having people – friends – who cared about him this much to organize a stupid day of kid attractions.  It would never have been anything that Eric would have picked out for himself – as he had taste and was, you know, a mature human being, but it had been…nice.

Dumb, thoughtless entertainment with no repercussions.  He could be competitive for fun, but if he failed, he didn’t really lose anything.

It was good.  Different, but good.

“En contraire, mi amigo.” Hunter turned to wag a knowing finger in Eric’s face.  “I plan to brag about this for quite a while.”

Taylor rolled her eyes. “You don’t get to feel smug about buying nine fun passes.”

“Eight.” Leo raised his hand, as though waiting to be called on.  “I got my own.”

“None,” Rocky added, arm looped around Adam’s neck as he leaned into the black Ninjetti ranger.  “I’m pretty sure Wes paid for all the tickets.”

Hunter did not seem at all deterred by this fact. “Yeah, but I hit him up for the money, so that makes me a producer.”

“Facilitator, at best,” Rocky shot back. 

“I still bought my own fun pass,” Leo added.  “Do I get to be a producer as well?”

Eric rolled his eyes at the lot of them.  _These_ , he considered friends. “There are no ending credits here.”

“Only pizza celebrations,” Rocky added.  The guy had ‘perpetual optimism’ on lockdown, but Eric had become accustomed to that.  Long-term exposure to Wes had made it mandatory.

“Yes!” Hunter cheered, both hands thrown into the air.  “Pizza-time!”

“We could get to it faster if you hadn’t made me park down the block,” Eric grumbled. 

The kid had demanded they stop further down the street so they could ‘stretch their legs’, but Eric had a sneaking suspicion the blond was aiming to make the walk back to their cars as long as possible to deter/profit-from any future inebriations.

Guy after Eric’s own heart, not that the Silver Guardian would ever say as much.

“Q-bear,” Hunter drawled, eyes half-lidded with amusement.  “Darling, you’ve got to learn to stop and smell the roses.”

Eric felt his right eye twitch.  “I can’t even escape that dumb nickname on my birthday.”  He shot Leo a dirty look.

Beside him, the red Lost Galaxy ranger seemed completely unapologetic as they strolled down the sidewalk.  “You can escape the cost of a fun pass,” he offered, smile brilliant.

At Eric’s expense, maybe, but he had figured out a long time ago that the things Leo threw out in jest never intended injury, even if it was presented as such.  Low self-esteem, maybe, that the brunette goaded others into disliking him, like maybe he deserved it.

It struck an eerily similar chord in Eric that he didn’t bother to pursue.  Leo was his friend, as strange as it was – Eric wasn’t going to stress the small stuff.  If it wasn’t broken, why fix it?

“And pizza!” Rocky’s exclamation brought Eric back to the present, the red Ninjetti ranger playfully resting more and more of his weight against his boyfriend.  Adam, to continue his show of perpetual peace, remained unbothered.  “It seems wrong to make you buy your own pizza.”

“Got it covered, ape-man.” Hunter cut around them on someone’s lawn, launching to the front of the group in a backwards stroll, keeping all of them in his sight.  “Because I’m amazing.”

“Because Wes gave you pizza-money along with the fun-passes,” Lucas shot back, deadpan.  The blue Time Force ranger was behind Eric, but the Silver Guardian didn’t need to see him to know he was rolling his eyes. 

“I am a great producer,” Hunter declared, hands propped against his fist in what he probably considered a heroic superman pose. 

The effect was somewhat lost by the fact that he was still walking backwards, but if the kid was anything, it was stubbornly unconcerned of ‘details’.

“Facilitator!” Taylor called back.  She had taken up the rear of their motley precession (or, more accurately, Carter had tricked her into a conversation with his responsible-adult-eyes to keep her separated from Hunter). 

“Laser Blast champion!” Hunter countered.  On cue, he whipped out his scoresheet from seemingly nowhere, waving it around with a mad flourish.  “Bow to me, peons.  Well, first bow to Carter, and then bow to me.”

“There’s nothing quite like second-hand adulation,” Leo noted quietly, probing a soft elbow into Eric’s side. 

“Us pitiful orphan boys take what they can get.”  Hunter’s response was blithe, but the tension in his shoulders gave away how close the statement hit to home. 

Kid always tried to make light of it – Eric understood why, he just wished…hell, he didn’t know what he wished.  Hunter had obviously come to terms with his parents’ deaths, but the die-hard revenge thing for Lothor-

There was a quick jab against his side, nothing hard, just enough to gather his attention.  Eric blinked, looking over to Leo and trying to hide his confusion. 

The red ranger didn’t say anything – sometimes he didn’t need to.  When Leo cut the crap, his eyes did all the talking for him, going for earnest and comforting and understanding in a way that Eric would have previously found sickening.

Somehow, since that stupid Doompot Incident, it didn’t seem to bite as much as it used to.  With practice, Eric had come to understand the words Leo didn’t say.

Those were worries for another day.  When they weren’t celebrating…you know.

“As a fellow pitiful orphan boy, I can confirm this.”

The voice came from behind them, and it took Eric a few moments to place it, even though they’d been together all day.  Over his shoulder, he could see Lucas consider the future-red, Alex, with a look that was torn between concern and anger.  Alex didn’t seem to note it though, his weirdly stoic face (odd, because it was so like Wes’, and the blond was rarely stoic) appearing almost-thoughtful.

Once he realized he had gathered their joint attention, Alex shrugged. “Survival mechanisms.”

“Exactly!” Hunter pulled their focus back to the front, jumping in overdramatic obnoxiousness.  “You get me Al, you are a welcome member of our brotherhood.”

“His name’s Alex,” Lucas muttered, but it was drowned out by Rocky’s, “Can we be a brotherhood of pizza-lovers instead?  You know, be all inclusive?”

Leo thrust a hand into the air, cheerfully, “I second that motion.”

“Third,” Adam continued.

“Sold!” Hunter jumped to emphasize this fact, landing at the base of the walkway up to Eric’s house.  “The motion carries.  Pizza for all, no takesies-backsies.”

Rocky pressed his face against Adam’s ear, quietly murmuring, “Now _that_ was Dustin.”

Leo chuckled into his hand.  “Can’t argue with that,” he whispered.

Why they bothered with collusion when all of them had enhanced senses, Eric would never know, but Hunter made a show of not paying them any attention. 

“Q-bear!” the crimson ranger motioned towards him.  “As the great bearer of the keys, you must lead the way.”

“Pretty sure all of you ninjas know how to pick locks,” Lucas snarked.  “Isn’t that how the whole Doompot-thing started-?”

“ _La-la-la,_ I’m ordering pizza and can’t hear you, _la-la_ ,” Hunter replied, pressing his cellphone firmly against his ear.

“We’re trying for a more lawful entrance,” Adam offered, pulling Lucas away from the blond.  He nodded his head towards Eric and motioned towards the door.  “Shall we?”

Eric shrugged his shoulders.  “Sounds good enough to me.”  He started up the walkway, the others following behind him like a line of dysfunctional, highly-skilled ducklings.  “Fair warning though, I wasn’t expecting company today, so I don’t want to hear anything about clutter.”

“Us?” Rocky asked, mock-offended.  “Be critical?  _Never_.”

“Especially since we’ve all seen Rocky’s pad,” Leo laughed.  “It’s a wonder you put up with him, Adam.”

“You offend me to the deepest caverns of my soul, Corbett,” Rocky gasped.  “How dare you even question-”

Eric unlocked the door in quick, practiced movements, the conversation fading behind him as he stepped into the entryway and reached for the light switch, already contemplating which pieces of his furniture would most likely be goners by tomorrow morning.

Roughhousing was an inevitability with this group.  The tactician in Eric wanted to get ahead of the damage, maybe pull some of the items he was more attached to out of harm’s way, not that none of it was replaceable, it would be stupid to be attached to material-

_“SURPRISE!”_

Eric had summoned his Quantum Defender just as something – thousands of paper bits – exploded in his direction. 

Confetti, he realized belatedly.  Why would there be confetti?  It didn’t make sense-

“Happy birthday!” The voices cheered together as a staggered group.

A group.  There was a group.

Of people. 

In his house.

It did not make sense.

The most prominent of the voices was Dustin, who stood at the front of the crowd.

It was difficult to compute- it wasn’t just the kid, it was the entire Ninja Storm team.  A few steps behind Dustin was Jason, bumping elbows with Tommy and Andros. 

In almost numb disbelief, Eric took it in.  Zhane and Maya – the rest of Lost Galaxy, all squeezed into the left side of his entryway.  The Time Force team – the rest of the louts – had taken up position in the entryway to the living room, chatting excitedly with Kole and Wild Force on one side and the rest of Carter’s team on the other.  Justin was off to the side, near Shane and his conglomerate, trying to coax what looked to be five confetti poppers away from Trip.  It appeared to be a battle he was losing, much to his chagrin and Trip’s obvious delight.

“Surprise!” Dustin was in his face before Eric could process what was happening, one hand shoving something hard and plastic on his head.  “Come, we have cake!”

“What?”

That was all Eric got out before the kid had latched onto his wrist and he was pulled into a sea of rangers.  Eric found himself nodding along to various arm clasps and half-hugs and high fives, reciprocating from pure confusion more than anything else.

What the hell was happening?

“Sword brother!” Zhane cheered far too loudly into Eric’s ear after reeling the Quantum Ranger in for a bear hug.  “Happy birthday!”

“What?!” Eric echoed, again. 

This had to be some kind of hallucination, Eric had – they had done putt-putt, for his birthday.  This couldn’t be for- What _was_ this?

Like some kind of knight in shining armor, Dustin batted the silver Space ranger away.  “Less congratulating, more cake.”

“The good wishes are kind of part of the birthday deal, Dusty,” Jason – who had either appeared in a whirl of goodwill at that very moment, or had stealthed his way into the conversation two seconds ago – noted with a bright grin.  He offered Eric one of the beers he’d been holding. 

For lack of knowing what else to do, Eric took it – Dustin allowing a few seconds for this transgression before he tugged Eric along again, towards the kitchen.

Behind him, near the front door, he could hear celebratory cheering.

“ _I told you I was an awesome producer_!”

“ _We are the best at secret missions_!” Rocky responded to Hunter’s declaration, echoes of laughter following in the wake from the group that had kept him out all day.

_Distraction_ , Eric managed to note.  _They were keeping me distracted from_ _this_.

It had been difficult to wrap his mind around the fun day out, but this-

Eric had never had a surprise party.  Truth be told, he had never had a real birthday party.  When his mother was alive, it had just been the two of them.  Sometimes they went bowling, or saw a movie, but a lot of times they stayed home.

The few years after they had beaten Ransik, Eric had lied about having birthday plans when Wes asked.  He wasn’t embarrassed, exactly, he just wasn’t a guy for birthdays.  It wasn’t his thing.

Finally, Dustin dragged him into the kitchen.  The modest place he had left this morning had been transformed into a monstrosity of craft streamers – Trip or Dustin’s doing, had to be, but Eric wouldn’t put it past Zhane to join in the fun.  There were tacky Power Ranger wall stickers posted on all of the cabinets, the generic kind you could get at the grocery store for kids’ birthday parties.  His worn kitchen table had been covered in a red plastic tablecloth, pictures of the Mighty Morphin’ rangers dancing along the outside edges.  He was surprised the poor thing could hold up to the amount of food that was laid out on it – dozens of plates stacked with finger foods that all smelled delicious.  And all of it, Eric noted, were things he had mentioned having a preference for in the past, from Kai’s fancy cheese plate to the pizza rolls to the mac n’ cheese cups.  There were mini burgers and spring rolls, a plate piled high with hot wings and at least three different dipping sauces on the side.  Off in the far corner was the obligatory vegetable plate, but even that had stuff Eric had an inclination for – snow peas and cherry tomatoes and slices of bell pepper.

He didn’t get much of a chance to look at it – be awed and confused and torn – before Dustin was dragging him away, towards the kitchen island.

“Check it out!” the earth ninja cheered, and there, low and behold…

Was Wes Collins, standing on the other side of the island, Kai Chen flanking his other side.  The blond had a lighter clutched in one hand, hovering over the side of a red cake placed on the counter. 

But Wes was- He had a trip, he had said-

Dustin waved at the frosted desert in a mad flourish.  “Wes made you a cake!”

Wes smiled, cheeks reddening at the enthusiasm.  “Technically, we all made you a cake,” the blond added, averting his eyes to look anywhere but Eric.

“But Wes was the leader!” Dustin insisted.  Tori, at some point, had snuck up beside him, one arm looping around his neck with a satisfied smirk on her face. 

Dustin was- but he was supposed to be gone too.

“What,” Eric shook his head, still dazed. “I thought…”

“Family emergency,” Dustin nodded, answering the question Eric had not verbalized. “Had to bake a cake.”

“Team cake-building exercise.” Kai nodded thoughtfully, relieving Eric of the burden of everyone’s focus. 

He would consider it strategic and tactful, but for Eric it was a kindness that allowed him to gather himself, swallowing down a stubborn lump that had caught in his throat.  It was a dumb thing to get worked up over, the kid threw out off-hand comments all the time, oblivious of their weight.  It was part of his charm. 

“So you…”

“It’s called a surprise party, my friend.” Hunter came from behind him like the deadly silence of night, stopping to obnoxiously lean against Eric’s shoulder.  “And as much as I’d like to take credit for it, this was all Wes’ doing.”

Wes flushed. “It wasn’t all-”

“Supreme mastermind,” Dustin noted sagely.

“Whipped us all into shape real good.” Leo’s voice came from behind them, but his footsteps were deliberate, noisy so as not to startle anyone. 

Wes gave a nervous laugh.  “I didn’t-”

“Hey, is that the cake?” Trip came into the room as he always did, in an explosion of energy and cheer.  There was a mess of confetti tucked into the neon green tuffs of his hair.  Flurries of rainbow paper fell behind him as he walked, freeing themselves from the folds and pockets of his oversized clothes. 

“Good job Wes!” the Xybrian continued.  “It looks great.”

“Better than the last three, at any rate,” Justin added.  He had followed in behind Trip, and the amplitude of multi-colored confetti trapped in his hair indicated just how badly he had lost that particular battle of wills.

Wes opened his mouth, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Dustin cut him off.  “Blake sent them pictures.”

“No good sneak,” Hunter drawled.  “I’m proud of you.”

Eric frowned.  “Who-?”

“Thanks!” came cheerfully from above – and how Eric had missed it, he would never know, but the youngest Bradley had somehow managed to glue himself to the ceiling, video camera tight in his grasp as he took in the entire scene.  “Love you too.”

“I…” Eric blinked, taking in the decorations, the cake, the food, all of the rumble of conversation resonating from his living room – words upon words blurring into unintelligible sound, but voices familiar.  “What?”

It didn’t make sense.  They had already given him more than he could have ever wanted.  And that- that had just been an afterthought, not even the main event.  They had set this out for him, they had invaded his home, filled it with all the things he liked most, for _him_.

And he was kind of an asshole. 

In his peripherals, Eric could see Justin lean around Trip, frowning. “I think we broke him.”

“I got this,” Leo said confidentially, his constant attitude of easy surety taking control.  He looped an arm around Eric’s neck.  “Look, it’s easy big guy.  Drink your beer, eat some cake, and gorge yourself on snack food.  When you’re ready, you can tackle that pile of presents that is slowly taking over your living room.”

Eric narrowed his eyes at the brunette, ignoring how grounded the point of contact made him feel, the closeness of Leo comforting in a small way. “You did _not_ get me presents.”  

Hunter threw his head back and laughed, unrestrained and loving every moment of it.  “Oh, we got you presents.”

“All the presents,” Dustin added, nodding slowly.

At some point, Cam had snuck into the kitchen and wrapped himself around the earth ninja, arms secured around the kid’s waist and head resting against his shoulder, like it was easy.

“There will be tears, if you do not open these presents,” Leo said quietly. “That, and a couple of angry yellow rangers.”

“All hail the might of the two-K connection,” Blake intoned silently.  “Katie and Kelsey are a force to be reckoned with.”   

“And Tori?” the aqua ranger asked, raising one challenging eyebrow at the ceiling.

“Goes without saying.” Blake gave her a two finger salute, but kept the camera on Eric.

Leo ducked his head in towards Eric’s ear.  The movement was friendly, not intimate, even if it made Eric’s pulse jump.

“Just don’t think about it too much,” Leo murmured.  His breath was warm and smelled faintly of those chocolate mints Rocky hoarded.  “For now, why don’t you start with blowing out your candles?”

“Don’t forget to make a wish!” Dustin bounced on the balls of his feet, unable to contain his excitement.  His boyfriend, apparently used to such outbursts, simply moved along with him as though it were some kind of training exercise, his expression one of amused peace.   

“He’s got us,” Leo declared, switching his hold to grab onto Eric’s wrist as Dustin had earlier, and dragged him to the other side of the island.  “What more could he wish for?”

“I would wish for the playlist to include something other than ‘ _Bootylicious’_ ,” Justin grumbled, throwing a glare at Cam.  He hadn’t made any effort to shake off any of the confetti.

The green Samurai ranger returned Justin’s ire with a half-lidded, put-upon look.  “In some skirmishes, retreat is the most effective option.  I yielded to the majority.”

“The non-earthling majority?” Justin’s incredulous tone was somewhat tempered for Trip’s benefit, though the Xybrian showed no signs of offense.

Cam gave a half-hearted shrug.  “They like jelly.”

“ _And no one is ready for jelly_!” Zhane cheered from the living room.  “ _No one_!”

As one, they eyed the clumps of people laughing in the living room, then turned their eyes to the speaker system.

“I’ll fix the playlist later,” Tori volunteered.

There was a mutter from Cam that sounded suspiciously like, “ _Good luck with that_.” that everyone chose to ignore.

Eric’s attention was brought back to the counter as Wes turned the cake, nudging it to face Eric.  It was two…layers?  Tiers, maybe, whatever you called two rectangular cakes stacked on top of each other.  The borders of both layers, on bottom and top, were covered in decorative piping.  The upper layer was smaller, and the surface area it didn’t cover was iced with black and white patterns similar to his helmet.

On the top layer, surrounded by a mess of candles, were the words ‘ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERIC’_.  They were done with a plain tip - straight, drafters’ lettering - not anything fancy.  They didn’t look as confidently done as the outside piping, a little sloppy, not all of the letters the same size but…it looked like it had been done with care.

“I did that part.” Wes volunteered it quietly, having caught where Eric was staring.  “I don’t ice that many cakes, so…”

“Thank you.”

Wes snapped his mouth shut, but Eric kept his gaze resolutely on the cake. 

Way back when, any time Eric actually had celebrated his birthday, his mom had always made sure there was enough saved away to bake a cake herself.  It seemed better, the thing being homemade, but realistically he knew that baking the thing herself had been the cheaper option, instead of ordering one.  Even if it was from a box though, it had been the best damn desert Eric had ever tasted.

Wes couldn’t have known that, but something had pushed him to make a cake anyway.  For Eric.

They didn’t do this, that often.  The touchy-feely friendship stuff.  That was Wes’ territory, but if…if the blond was going to take it upon himself to do all this when Eric had mentioned _maybe_ getting birthday drinks, possibly, then the least he could do was set aside his normal attitude of not-thinking-too-hard about Wes and Wes-related things and express his appreciation.

To whatever god was out there, Eric would always send his gratitude for the blond’s inclusion in his life.  While vocalizing it felt dangerously close to crossing a threshold he had promised to never entertain, in this instance, it needed to be done.

“All of you,” Eric continued, the words somewhat clumsy.  Out of practice.  “Thank you.  You didn’t have to-”

“ _Lalalaaa_ , _I can’t hear you-_ ” Hunter shoved both hands over his ears, just as Dustin started to wave his hands emphatically, “Nope, nope, _nope-_ ”

“What they mean to say,” Kai spoke over them, eyes taking in their antics with subdued curiosity.  “Is that this is our privilege.  Please-” He tilted his head ever so slightly, a minute bow of respect, maybe.  It was hard to tell with Kai.  “Permit us this.”

“Because we want to,” Wes added. 

With Wes and Kai an unyielding wall in front of him, and Leo a reassuring warmth behind, it was difficult to say anything to the contrary. 

Unlike Justin, Eric knew a losing battle when he saw one.

He yielded with grace, swallowing down feelings he couldn’t articulate, and didn’t really want to try.

“Alright,” he said quietly.  “Let’s have cake.”

A hand ruffled through his hair, followed by Leo’s laughter, the brunette’s hand falling to the base of Eric’s neck as he leaned against the other ranger.  “I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day.”

Eric focused on the cake in front of him, counting the red and white candles, and ignored the warmth of Leo’s hand.  “Yeah well, I have my moments.”

The brunette chuckled.  “Don’t we all?”

-:-:-:-:-:-

“Friends aren’t supposed to sneak compromising pictures of friends when they’re unconscious,” Justin grumbled. 

The protest was half-hearted at best, what with the fact that the Turbo ranger had not, in fact, made any move to stop Blake, so the thunder ninja felt a grand total of zero guilt for ignoring other teen.

There were some opportunities in life that could not be ignored.  This was one of them. 

By hell, was this one of them.

“At least take the crown off his head.”  In his peripherals, Blake saw Justin fold his arms stubbornly, averting his eyes to look anywhere but the tableau before them. 

He still hadn’t left.

From Blake’s other side, Trip was performing some kind of minimalistic happy dance that came across as a joyful need to use the bathroom. “I kind of like the crown.  It’s festive.”

“I like Leo’s tiara,” Dustin whispered, hanging upside down from the ceiling, legs folded beneath him in a meditative position.

Despite knowing them for a good few months, Justin still jumped at the comment.  How he hadn’t learned to look up yet was beyond Blake, it was the best hiding place.

As though reading his mind, Justin aimed an annoyed glare Blake’s way.  “Damn ninjas.”

At this, Trip paused his spastic dance, seeming to take offence on Blake’s behalf.  “This is a place of love,” he informed Justin sagely.  “No ‘damning’ allowed.”

“Not when there’s a cuddle pile nearby,” Dustin added. 

“Part of the pile can hear you.”

It was totally reasonable for the onlookers to jump at the sudden intrusion, though Blake managed to school his face free of any guilt, even if Tweedle dee and Tweedle Trip refused to do so beside him.

Kai met Blake’s expression with an unimpressed look of his own.  With Wes wrapped around him on one side and Eric cuddling in on the other, it shouldn’t have been as effective, but Kai kind of had the ‘overprotective papa bear’ thing going on. 

Blake had enough survival instincts intact to know when to retreat. 

Naturally, Dustin didn’t. 

“Hey Kai.” The earth ninja waved at the blue Lost Galaxy ranger happily, even as the hands wrapped around Wes and Eric tightened in response.  “Happy post-friend birthday.”

For a moment, Kai considered Dustin, his face trained to apathy, but Blake knew that expression better than anything else.  It was the one Cam had levered Dustin’s way many times in the early days of team Ninja Storm, when the samurai ranger was still attempting to fathom the enigma that was Dustin Brooks.    

“Thank you,” Kai responded after a pause, nodding his gratitude in the yellow ranger’s direction.  “Happy post-friend birthday to you as well.”

“Is this the part where you tell us to leave?” Justin asked. 

As a fellow blue, and all around smart person, Justin tended to cut to the point when approached with subjects that could affect the safety of their lives.

“Yes,” Kai responded without missing a beat.  “This is the part where I tell you to leave.”

On Eric’s other side, Leo grumbled unintelligibly in his sleep.  He knocked his tiara – it had been won over from Kendrix, Blake was pretty sure, but he’d have to check the tapes – askew when he burrowed into the Quantum ranger, not that the birthday boy seemed to mind.  Eric gave a few incoherent grumbles before wrapping an arm around the other red ranger.

Blake almost wasn’t mad that Hunter had been right, when it provided with such a beautiful picture.

His glee was short-lived when Kai narrowed his eyes at Blake, the quiet acceptance disappearing in a look of cool threat.

“Leave the camera,” the blue Lost Galaxy ranger ordered.

“But-” It was a new camera (that Blake may have ‘borrowed’ from Cam).

Justin plucked the device from Blake’s hands and tossed it on Eric’s dresser.  “Leaving it,” he muttered.  “Let’s roll out, team.”

“Who died and made you red ranger?” Blake grumbled on principal, even as he followed in Justin’s annoyed wake.   

Behind him, he could hear Dustin land on the red carpet of the bedroom floor, even if the other two couldn’t.  “I think the more important question here is, do we have any cake left?”

“I think so,” Trip replied.  He had looped his arm through Dustin’s the moment they hit the hallway.  It was some kind of bonding thing that had popped up after watching one too many musicals together.  The rest of them had learned not to talk about it. “Why do you ask?”

Dustin looked at him with wide eyes. “Two words,” he began.  “Breakfast cake.”

Justin shot a glare over his shoulder from where he had been leading them downstairs, back to the piles of sleeping rangers.  “No.”

“We can have cake for breakfast?” Trip replied over him.  “That’s awesome!  Jen never let us do that when we were in this century.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes in his interpretation of ‘steely determination’. “That’s a problem that needs to be rectified.”

“No,” Justin said, continuing shaking his head.  Blake was pretty sure he’d never stopped.  “It really isn’t.”

Blake gave him a helpless shrug.  “Majority rules,” he reminded.  “What can you do?”

“Many things that don’t involve cake for breakfast,” Justin replied, giving him a half-lidded look.

Dustin pulled ahead of them, dragging Trip in his wake in a chorus of giggles.  “Sounds boring.”

Whatever argument Justin had in place was interrupted by Trip, laughing open and bright and in that very particular way that had awing effects on certain blue Turbo rangers.

“This is the best birthday ever,” Trip declared.  He turned his gaze on Justin. “Don’t you think?”

With all the grace in the world, Justin managed to look _just_ a little more dumbstruck.  “I…”

_Ah hell, this is painful to watch_.

Out of blue brotherhood, Blake took pity on the guy.

“Totally agree,” he finished.  “Justin totally agrees.  We should do this more often.”

“Or at least have brunch,” Dustin concluded.

“Alright,” Blake said.  “First brunch, then world domination.”

Beside him, Justin sputtered, but Trip was already nodding.

“Sounds good to me.  We can enforce mandatory breakfast-cake then.”

“Or fruit salad,” Dustin added.  “If you’re gluten-free.”

Blake cocked his head to the side. “What about diabetics?”

“What about _not_ taking over the world?” Justin countered.

As one, they ignored him.

“Sugar substitutes,” Dustin replied.  “But first-”

“Cake.” Trip grabbed his arm, dragging the earth ninja around the cuddle pile sleepover that had overtaken the first floor of Eric’s house. “That, is true happiness.”

“I think we can do better on the happiness scale than ‘cake’,” Justin muttered, still following behind them despite his objections towards their selected breakfast.  “A well-balanced meal, for instance.”

“Silly Justin,” Trip laughed, echoing the phrase of that damn Trix commercial Dustin had gotten him hooked on.  A _commercial_ , not even a movie.  Who did that?  “Happiness can be anything.  The levels don’t matter.”

They pulled into the kitchen, taking care to step around the Jason-Zhane-Mike ranger heap. 

Justin rolled his eyes.  “Of course they-”

“Happiness,” Dustin began, half of his body already in Eric’s fridge, no doubt searching for the remains of the cake.  “Is breakfast cake.”

“Happiness,” Blake added. “Is mini golf.”

Trip clapped his hands together in the delight.  “And surprise parties.”

“And people to invite to those surprise parties,” Dustin professed triumphantly as he pulled the cake platter out of the refrigerator, his grin huge.  “And people to throw surprise parties for.”

“Happiness is a firefly.”

Blake paused, pulling his focus from Dustin making room on the kitchen island to Justin, who remained a few feet behind them.

The Turbo ranger’s arms were folded across his chest, the perfect example of defensive behavior, but the hitch in his shoulders told a different story. 

It seemed social awkwardness was a common trait among ranger-team geniuses.

At their pause, Justin continued, “If happiness can be breakfast cake, it can definitely be a firefly.”

“Or an ice cream cone,” Trip added, bounding over to the brunette’s side.  “Or a secret.”

“Or daytime.” Dustin rifled through Eric’s drawers, searching for a clean knife.  “Or nighttime.  Whatever.”

“‘ _Whatever’_ ,” Blake echoed with a laugh.  “Way to specify.”

“I mean-” Dustin narrowed his eyes in concentration, smile lighting up his face when he discovered an appropriate cutting utensil.  “If you love it, that’s happiness.”

“Sounds like perfect logic to me.” 

For the moment, Blake was glad they didn’t have the camera.  Something like this didn’t need to be shared with the rest of the world.  He liked keeping it as this.  As them.

Dustin looked at him, all at once wise and playful and aware and lost and the total conflicting formula that was _Dustin_. “That’s because it is.”

And really, who was Blake to argue with that?

Some things didn’t require specification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Happiness is, morning and evening, daytime and nighttime too. For happiness is anyone, and anything at all – that’s loved by you.” – ‘Happiness’ from ‘You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown’
> 
> Until next time :)

**Author's Note:**

> Until next time :)


End file.
